


you make me feel this way somehow

by gudetama (elementary)



Series: say you won't let go [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Newt, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, BAMF Newt Scamander, Hurt Original Percival Graves, Hurt/Comfort, Infertility, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Original Percival Graves, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Past Torture, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Newt, Protective Tina Goldstein, Unreliable Narrator, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 70,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: This is the story of an omega who people know as an alpha and an alpha who people assume is an omega.The omega couldn't care less about love and relationships and the alpha is a tad bit ignorant when it comes to non-creatures.But then maybe one tries to woo the other without being an asshole and it leads somewhere.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first time writing abo dynamics but I've read them and am pulling scraps of knowledge from here and there
> 
> since this is more of a whim and self-indulgence I can't promise regular updates or finishing, but here we go
> 
> cheesy title is cheesy from "Say you won't let go" by James Arthur even though I'm not sure it really suits the story... (I really like this song ugh)

This is what it inevitably comes to, Percival thinks. He hurts all over with every breath he takes, is hungry, cold and naked without even his captor for company. He sinks deep into the darkness of his thoughts.

Maybe this is his just deserts, that after years and years of hiding himself, resisting and rebelling against what society told him to be, he is brought down by an alpha like nature has always dictated. Something crumbles inside him at the thought, part despair and part resignation, mourning over how all he has done is ultimately for naught. And to his horror, his eyes that have been dry for what seems like weeks sting with tears of anger and sorrow. Still, he does not let them fall just as he has never let them during the times Grindelwald inflicted curse upon curse out of sadistic glee.

Oh, the day Grindelwald had walked into this prison with his very own face and body had almost been the last straw. It had shaken him to the core to see his form brought out with the natural air and posture of an alpha, something he can never be no matter how hard he tries. Even the times of his younger days filled with moments of humiliation as a result of his biology had not compared to the moment Grindelwald had flaunted how much better Percival Graves is as an alpha. Percival had never felt such hatred towards another and himself.

While he did command respect with his authority and expertise as the Director of Magical Security, nobody will ever know the time and effort, the _will_ he had put in to not only be better, but simply _equal_. But the dark wizard had completely undermined his work and reduced the value of his being through nothing but a damn potion and shallow acting. As if a well-poised flick of a hand and furrowed brows in sternness are all there is to him.

Although he means not to feel hurt—because who can be blamed falling for the trickery of a masterful wizard?—it still rankles that he remains chained and undiscovered.

Percival has long ago lost track of time, and that in itself is alarming. Or rather, he knows it’s supposed to be alarming but lacks the sense of urgency. And when did he lie down on the floor? He remembers sitting upright, determined to be ready for the next visit and never be caught vulnerable—any more vulnerable than this, that is. His left side is numb from the chill of the concrete floor, so it has been a considerable while.

A bitten-back cry of frustration leaves his cracked lips bleeding, and it’s then that he notices his captor has not returned to give him water for some time. Even for no other business than to slide a bowl of water into his cell, Grindelwald had come at least once a day. Is he finally being left alone?

The sting in his eyes return again. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not.

Percival Graves will die here alone, life completely taken over ironically by the man he had sought to put in jail. Perhaps it’s an indication of his own success that someone being an alpha with his face invokes no suspicion whatsoever.

It’s all that he has ever wanted: to be the alpha the Graves’ name deserves.

And yet...

Though he had trained vigorously and suppressed every part of himself that could be viewed as weak to others, he has desired every once in a while the family he will not have. Being the oldest child of the head of the main family leaves little room for dreams and whimsical needs, unfortunately. Furthermore, encountering alpha after alpha of distasteful disposition, nothing at all like his refined father who always respects his omega mother, has put a permanent damper on the idea of a mate.

And yet, knowing he is dying without an opportunity to give those desires a chance cuts too deep. It twists his mind, heart and soul with a pain beyond the physical. The agony of an omega straining under the pressure of denial.

His body decides to betray him in this moment, a lick of heat starting deep within his belly. Despite not having had one since his presentation, Percival recognises the beginnings of a heat. It’s with dread he realises he has not taken any suppressants since his capture.

This is what it inevitably comes to, to end just as it began. What a rotten, shameful mess he has become.

The tears are harder to hold back now, what with him losing control of his body. Though he has never been one for praying, he prays desperately now to be struck down before Grindelwald sees him like this. If not that at least to die of dehydration from this heat. He cannot possibly ask for dignity in his final moment at this point, only mercy.

Like a wildfire, the heat spreads. It becomes unbearable too soon, sweat dripping and slick pooling. He pants and gulps for air since he has no energy to manoeuver himself into a less stressful position. His skin feels too stretched over his muscles and it aggravates the wounds that have not healed properly in the absence of torture. Percival whines for relief, a pitiful thing of a sound from a torn-up throat, then immediately curses himself though there is no one else to witness his depravity.

When the door opens unexpectedly, he is nearly out of his mind. Only stubbornness and sheer will allows him to be aware of what is happening amidst the overtaking of instinct.

What Percival smells is alpha and it’s not Grindelwald. What he hears is a soothing voice.

What finally breaks him is the cold hand that cups his cheek, his last resistance crumbling as his omega seeks comfort.

The tears come fast and hard. He can’t see who it is and he still can’t move. Nonetheless he begs, further shattering himself.

“Please,” he sobs. “Please...”

The voice hushes him, and the hand moves from his face to stroke his head softly. His hair is disgusting, Percival thinks hysterically, but he starts to relax. He cries and cries and this alpha breathes with him through it.

The hand and voice stay until darkness claims him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make my idea work, I had to make up some rules about this world of abo honestly its's a load of bs:
> 
> In this AU, alphas and omegas are the only ones with distinct scents. Betas are generally scentless as their smells aren’t required to attract mates as in the case of alphas and omegas. With suppressants Percival's is somewhat ambiguous and people assume his gender by his mannerisms. While not common to have an ambiguous scent, there are people who choose to hide theirs intentionally out of protection, for their jobs (healthcare, law enforcement, caretaking etc.), or other personal reasons. Newt Scamander, likewise hiding his scent to take care of creatures that may be sensitive, is mistaken gender-wise. Hence, hilarious assumptions and misunderstandings may ensue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooly crap you guys are amazing I'm super flattered by your response thank you so much!
> 
> Please note the updated tags. Sort of spoilery for this chapter but it could also be triggering so...
> 
> I swear I want him to be happy. Honest.

When Percival wakes sluggishly to the distinct feeling of being alive, he almost screams. Calm washes over him though, leaving him lethargic in the wake of dissipating panic.

He sees nothing when he opens his eyes after a struggle, darkness just as it has always been, and he wonders briefly if he had dreamed of his heat, the presence of a gentle stranger.

No, that’s not it, he observes. The longer he tries to stay awake, other sensations come back to him little by little. His immobile limbs, soreness of muscles, a parched throat. Thankfully, there is an absence of feverish heat torturing him from within. A reflexive twitch of his fingers reveal fabric under them, and finally realising his weight sinking into a soft, horizontal surface.

It’s a bed. Someone brought him to a bed to take him.

An attempt to sit up fails spectacularly since his body cannot support itself, and a hand wraps around one of his wrists, startling him.

Whoever this is administered to him a calming drought, seeing as he can’t seem to drag up the appropriate response to the dangerous situation he’s in. Scrunching up his face in a shadow of a scowl is the most he can do which alerts him to the band across his eyes. He reaches with the other hand to take it off—

“—Graves. Director Graves! Percival!“

He knows that voice, and its firmness stays his hand.

“Please refrain from taking that off. It’s to protect your eyes from direct light.”

Percival opens his mouth to reply but he can only croak. Immediately a piece of ice is inserted into his mouth to wet his throat followed by a slow trickle of water from a cup. Soon he’s drinking greedily from it and drains the whole thing.

After a couple more attempts of opening his mouth uselessly, he finally manages, “Madam President.”

The only indication that she hears his near-whisper is a brief squeeze to the wrist she’s holding before letting go.

"It's good to see you alive, Director," Seraphina replies, her voice coming from the right.

Percival thinks he imagines a slight waver on the word ‘alive’.

He thinks he is imagining a lot of things right now, such as the unbelievable fact that he has been found and set free and is under the watch of the President herself. If this is a delusion from a fever, Percival hopes he doesn’t wake up.

But then his stomach cramps from the water he drank hastily earlier, causing him to groan. There is some shuffling and Seraphina's voice comes from much closer than before.

“What is it? Are you hurting?” she asks quickly. “I will find you a healer.”

Footsteps rapidly retreat before Percival can answer, tell her not to leave him. The next few minutes in oppressive silence would have been unbearable to his conscience but the draught does its job wonderfully. A little too much so, even. It is rather disturbing how absent-minded he feels.

He needs to _see something_. The clean, herbal smell of a typical healing ward does not reassure him; he would like to confirm it with his own eyes, see a familiar face.

Unfortunately, Seraphina returns in the midst of dragging his hand up which lands on his stomach uselessly. And fortunately, that’s what she and the healer see when they come in so the cramps are dealt with right away. They also take off his blindfold.

“Now try opening your eyes very slowly, sir. We don’t want to expose them to light all at once,” the healer says.

Percival does as he is told and he squints into a barely lit room. Silhouettes are all he can make out. 

“I can’t—” he starts.

“Nothing to worry, sir, just a spell,” the healer reassures kindly. “The room will brighten with time as your eyes adjust. I will need to check your vitals and I apologize in advance for any discomfort. Most of the damage has been healed but natural repair and regeneration are also taking place so your nerves may still sensitive.”

There is a pause to allow him to process all that and drink another cup of water at a more sedate pace. He nods once to show he understands. Better to get this over with.

“Also,” the healer says again, this time on a hesitant note, “there is something else you should know—”

“That is enough, Healer Eleanor,” Seraphina cuts in. “Not now.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Madam.”

Seraphina's silhouette carries minor details when Percival blinks over at her. He wants to ask what pertinent information they are hiding from him but neither are looking.

The healer who is called Eleanor informs him that she will begin the procedure and by the end of it, with a new pain-reducing potion in him, he falls back into unconsciousness.

 

 

The next time he wakes, Seraphina greets him again. Something settles inside him to see her inside this room beside his bed, no darkness to be found.

A glance around the place tells him he is in one of the private quarters of their healing ward, clean and simple but large. The bedside table has various treats and cards upon it, presumably well-wishes. The sunset's glow sheds a soft light through the window across the room.

Seraphina is stunning just as he saw her last, beautiful in the strength she carries. Unlike the last, however, there is a heaviness upon her shoulders, a dark frown on her face, and deep weariness in her eyes. She looks like she needs much rest.

Percival wonders how she has time to keep him company. He feels guilty.

“Sera...” the nickname accidentally slips out.

It makes her close her eyes in pain, because she knows what it means that he is reaching out to her on a personal level. When she opens them again, it’s his long-time friend who meets his eyes.

“Percival.”

Licking his lips, Percival offers a slight smile. “You saved me; thank you.”

But Seraphina doesn’t look happy and her smile in return is a bitter twist on her lips.

“I wish that I did,” she says, voice equally bitter. “I have failed you.”

Percival won’t have that. He doesn’t know the details of his rescue, but it implies strongly that Grindelwald has been found out and either captured or chased away. His friend came through for him. She always has.

“That a complete stranger would see through that bastard’s scheme and be the one to reveal it to us is...” Seraphina trails off.

Oh. Well...

“I cannot forgive myself,” she concludes.

Seraphina turns her head to glare at the wall behind Percival’s bed.

No one speaks for a while.

Thoughts turn in his head and certain emotions arise in response to her confession, but surprisingly, Percival can easily forgive her. No one has it easy in these dark times of terror and destruction, living with constant threats of exposure and unpredictable attacks of a madman. And certainly, no one has it harder than the President of MACUSA. His friend and boss. Powerful but human.

“Madam President.” Percival notices her stiffen at the formal address and sighs. “You need not blame yourself for what is my mistake, one that nearly cost us everything.”

He knows he’s bad at comforting a friend, but what he is good at is supporting the President.

“I will not have you think in such a way—”

“Has Grindelwald been captured?” Percival continues smoothly as if he had not been interrupted.

“Of course! I—”

“And damages have been seen to, injuries healed? Security reinforced?”

“We are in the process of reorganizing the departments to restore them but all else has been dealt with. What are you saying?” Seraphina asks, frustrated.

“From what I can see, Madam, MACUSA is still standing and we have survived a notorious dark wizard’s attack. Mistakes were made, yes, but I do not blame you anymore than you blame me. We learn from this and grow stronger. We continue to protect the people.”

It’s the President who answers after some time, her gaze hard but appreciative. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Percival chuckles hoarsely, then promptly coughs. Water is quickly brought to his lips and he drinks gratefully. In fear of cramps from earlier happening again, he places a much more mobile arm around his stomach protectively.

“Is it hurting again?” Seraphina asks, worried, and Percival shakes his head.

When Seraphina’s face falls from simple worry to sadness, eyes on his stomach, he knows something is terribly wrong.

What is it, he’s afraid to ask.

“Director. Percival,” Seraphina starts, but does not continue.

The dread inside Percival grows.

“They—when you were found, you were in heat.”

So, this is it. His greatest secret of over twenty years since graduating school, finally out in the open. Up until today, Seraphina has been the only one who knew within MACUSA, being his friend from Ilvermony. Now, everybody knows.

“Yes,” Percival says slowly, heart pounding. “I remember that.”

“We were able to get you here safely and quickly thanks to Mr. Scamander, and the healers who treated you have been sworn to secrecy about your nature.”

It relaxes him slightly, and his mind picks up the name of the one who he assumes found him, the stranger. He files that piece of the puzzle away to solve later. The ominous feeling persists even though his biggest concern has been laid to rest, because Seraphina doesn’t seem finished.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he tries bravely. “My heat stopped and people are none the wiser.”

Seraphina shakes her head. “The healers had to stop your heat mechanically as they couldn’t allow an alpha near for your safety, including myself. They couldn’t let it run its course either because it was immense stress on your body due to its intensity.”

She takes a breath, visibly steeling herself for what she is about to say. “It was effective, but something went wrong. The healers didn’t know that you had been on suppressants for years, never had a heat since your first. There was a reaction with your biological chemicals that were trying to restart a natural cycle and it killed everything.”

Percival has a hard time understanding what Seraphina just said. He stares up at the ceiling, blinks.

“What do you mean ‘it killed everything'?” he asks quietly.

His mind spins but does not want to reach the conclusion.

“I should have told you to stop long ago. I knew you needed it to be kept secret, but I should’ve shown you that I would have your back even if others knew.”

“What in Merlin’s name does that _mean_?”

The silence is loud, too loud for his pounding ears.

“I’m sorry, Percival,” Seraphina answers, resigned, “you can no longer bear any children.”

A cold numbness washes over his being, like a calming draught without the potion. His first thought is that he won’t have to waste his resources on suppressants any more. The second is hysterical, the third an agony that rips his heart and shatters his soul. It's too much.

“I would like to be left alone now, Madam President,” he somehow manages calmly.

Although she sighs, Seraphina says nothing more and leaves the room. He hears the door locking behind her.

With great effort, Percival turns himself onto his side because he needs to curl up into a ball, feel less like a ragged piece of flesh. No tears. Too much and nothing all at once.

But it’s what he has always wanted; to be the alpha, to be free of an oppressive mate.

He thinks he imagines the sound of broken dreams.

 

 

They keep him a few more days to monitor him, or nailing the coffin shut in his opinion. Confirming with absolute certainty that his reproductive system has given up, saying that nothing short of a miracle would fix this.

Percival hates the looks of pity and sympathy the healers send his way when they think he doesn’t notice, but what can he do? He responds noncommittally to their instructions to take care at home and advice to have someone check on him every other day.

Healer Eleanor is especially attentive towards him and some days he appreciates it, others not so much.

The day he is finally released, he avoids everyone and refuses all offers of escort to his home. They don’t listen and a couple aurors follow him at a distance, only leaving when he closes the door behind him.

The house is cold and unfamiliar, and Percival’s skin crawls with the knowledge that he had been trapped here while Grindelwald waltzed around this place as he pleased.

He heads straight for the living room towards the liquor cabinet. It would be good to celebrate his survival, and there was no longer any reason to be overly cautious. He is thankful for small mercies when he discovers that there are some bottles left, and he takes two of strongest alcohols. He sits next to the cabinet on the floor with his back against the wall. One bottle is opened and tossed back for a long swallow.

The alcohol burns its way down his throat and it’s with some nausea and bitter satisfaction that Percival recalls how his body will never produce that kind of fire ever again. He drinks again, three short sips in succession. The numbness he craves doesn’t hit until half the bottle is gone. Mercy Lewis, he hasn’t been this drunk since his early twenties.

It’s only then that he lets himself grieve, letting out all that he couldn’t in that room surrounded by people. Grieves for his omega that will never be fully content, for the child he will never bear, for the mate that will never want him.

And tomorrow, he will think of these things no more. But today, he weeps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been this enthusiastic about writing a story.
> 
> Still a while before we get to Newt, but Percival finally starts on his road to recovery.

The next morning brings a world of pain that has nothing to do with the loss from last night. Percival doesn’t regret getting drunk; no, he had needed it. What he does regret is passing out on the floor, the cold, hard surface reminding him for a panicked moment of his prison. He wakes up just as sore as the first night of his rescue, and he moans into empty space.

Somehow, he makes it to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and pour himself some water. Manually. He has yet to try his magic since being liberated. No one had said anything about the tremors in his hands and if they are willing to keep quiet about it, then he has no reason to draw attention to them with spells going awry.

He stands on weak legs in front of the counter next to the sink and tentatively raises his right hand towards one of the cupboards, a curl of fingers opening the door. He concentrates on one of the mugs sitting in it and draws his hand back to himself. The mug slides forward to the edge, and instead of floating off it, the mug falls onto the counter with a loud bang. Percival freezes, then lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The hand curls into a shaky fist before opening again. He stretches it out once more toward the next mug. This one lands on its side and rolls until the handle stops its motion.

Percival growls in frustration and he grabs the full glass of water on the other side of the sink, drains it. He chokes a little and his ears burn with embarrassment as he coughs. For good measure, he takes a hangover potion as well. He positions himself again after calming, and pulls out the next item in the cupboard, which floats for a single second before ending up like the other two. And he keeps going, until the tremors get worse, until glass and ceramic chip from falling on one another. Until a plate makes it halfway through and drops, shattering on the floor with a deafening crash. A flying piece cuts him sharply across his cheek.

Percival stands there, not looking down, pale and shaking from distress and exhaustion. It’s some time before he finally moves, carelessly sweeping aside broken glass with his barefoot. He snatches a chipped mug off the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee that has gone cold a while ago. He then shuffles to the dining area which is just a table across from the kitchen that seats six, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shoot up from his feet. He sits down on the closest chair, sips his coffee. The chipped rim cuts his upper lip.

It takes him an hour to finish the coffee and for the shaking to lessen. He cleans up everything by hand, disinfects and dresses his wounds by hand.

He does and eats nothing else and falls asleep on the sofa that night.

 

 

The next few days progress in a similar manner, with Percival struggling alone to regain control of his magic. He has yet to venture upstairs, or any other place where an immediate exit isn’t available. It disgusts him to think that Grindelwald had slept in his bed, tainted the room with his scent. He still takes his suppressants although he doesn’t know if they’re really needed any more. Only when the nightmares start does he decide to leave the house for some fresh air.

The first nightmare goes something like this:

_Percival is back in the basement, the beginning of his heat torturing him, and the one who walks through the door is Grindelwald. Grindelwald as Percival Graves himself._

__

__

_“Such a shame, Director,” his voice mocking, eyes gleeful as he looks down upon him. “A pretty thing like you would have been a fine addition to my army, or rather I should say my chambers.”_

_He crouches down in front of Percival and rolls him onto his back. The back of his hand caresses the side of his hot face. He touches Percival with calloused fingers, pinching his ear and sliding down his arms with the surety of alpha entitlement, and Percival in his weakness leans into the touch._

He wakes when a hand wraps around his throat and starts to choke him, and lurches off the couch to throw up on the floor. Then he curls up next to that spot, breathing hard, a foul taste in his mouth. The phantom feeling of violation to his body doesn’t go away fast enough.

In the morning, he cleans himself and the floor, brews coffee without magic. Once he finishes his cup, he dresses appropriately, secures his wand that he had spent a whole day cleaning even though it has been cleared of any suspicion of tampering, and steps outside the dubious safety of his house.

It's too early for many people to be out yet, at least a couple hours before most business establishments will be open. The sun has yet to rise but the sky is a soft grey, giving some source of light. Percival walks slowly and carefully, his muscles not quite fully recovered. He tells himself to be more physically active to regain the strength that he lost.

His hair sways and tickles his face as he moves. Percival had absently noted its length at some point since it hadn’t been touched at all from the beginning of his imprisonment. He had never bothered to do anything with it, though, seeing as it had no profound consequences during his self-imposed house arrest. Now it makes him self-conscious. Percival pulls up the collar of his coat tighter.

By the time he reaches the closest open space not surrounded by buildings, a small park roughly twenty minutes away, he is severely winded and ready to collapse. Which he does, promptly, onto the first bench he sees.

Percival is thankful for the emptiness of the park, that no one is around to see him shiver as the sweat cools from the chilly air. He continues to try and catch his breath, head thrown back and arms crossed, one hand tucked inside his coat to grip his wand firmly. How pathetic.

Once settled, he leans back forward and bows his head, not wanting anyone to see a damaged man hating himself in public. His hair falls over his face and he grabs a few strands, tugs on them. Contemplates pulling them out.

The birds chirp loudly.

 

 

It takes Percival much longer than expected to feel well enough for the journey home. He wonders briefly when he will be able to apparate again.

The sun is starting to rise, so when he raises his head he needs to shield his eyes. People are passing by now, early risers out for a walk or on their way to work. Sighing, Percival brushes back his hair and scowls when they get tangled up in his fingers. He is definitely cutting off this menace. He tries to untangle the hairs to tame them, _really_ contemplating just pulling the hairs out. 

Suddenly, a throat clears from next to him. A breath locks tight in his chest and Percival has never pulled out his wand this fast to point it at the perpetrator. Wide eyes fix on an even more surprised Porpentina Goldstein.

“G-Good morning, sir,” she stutters, gaze switching between his own and his wand.

Her hands are held protectively in front of her, and a quick glance shows a dropped box at her feet.

Percival feels a flush rising up his neck and hastily puts his wand away, grateful that no one seems to have witnessed such a display. He coughs and sits back while trying to slow his heart from its panicked rhythm. A hand drags over his face tiredly.

Goldstein picks up the box and stands there, fidgeting.

Percival looks away and apologises, “Forgive me, Ms. Goldstein; I did not mean to pull my wand on you.”

“Oh no, sir,” the reply comes right away, “I apologise for... startling you.”

Caught off guard, then startled. In open space. Percival shakes his head at his own stupidity.

“I mean, not startled! Of course you weren’t—”

Goldstein stops when Percival turns back to her. He has only skimmed through the reports of the incident, currently preferring to avoid reminders of what had happened, but recalls Goldstein being one of important ones involved, assisting this Mr. Scamander in apprehending the criminal and relocating escaped creatures. She is still as strong and bright as ever from her training days. Her eyes are fixed earnestly on him, as if she is making sure he is real.

His heart clenches. He wants to say something, reassure her, but swallows down words. He is her superior and his aurors do not consider him close personally. Also, Percival does not feel comfortable opening up to them. Perhaps he will never be, not after all this.

"Sir, may I join you?" Goldstein asks.

The question confuses him. Percival figures she would want to be on her way and out of sight as soon as possible and honestly he would rather not show any more of himself in this state. There is a difference between distant and rude, however.

“Be my guest,” he offers, gesturing to the unoccupied side of the bench.

She sits down and of course, no one has anything to say. Percival stares straight ahead, eyes lazily following the signs of life around the park, and Goldstein keeps glancing at the side of his head. She is clearly uncomfortable so he isn’t sure why she has decided to torment herself like this.

Another few minutes pass, and he is just about to excuse himself when he hears a mumble.

"Excuse me?”

Goldstein fidgets again, but repeats herself louder, “I’m glad you’re okay, sir,” then after a pause, “I’m glad we were able to find you.”

Percival just stares, because Mercy Lewis this is awkward and he doesn’t really do emotional moments but...

“I’m glad you are well, too, Goldstein,” he replies cautiously. “Thank you for finding me.”

And at that she whips her head around to meet his eyes, and they look suspiciously shiny. Merlin, he hopes she doesn’t start to cry.

"When will you be back, sir?" Goldstein asks.

Here, he hesitates. He is nowhere near full strength, and truthfully has been avoiding any contact with MACUSA. But now, it may be the time to build himself back up because he might never be ready to face his job and his duties again if he continues to think on it. He has to do it. Like he had said to Picquery back then at the ward, he will continue to protect the people.

"In due time," he says, “as soon as I figure the details of my return with the President.”

Goodness, the girl looks again like she might cry. Has she always been so emotional?

“I look forward to it, sir,” she says so sincerely, he’s surprisingly warmed by it. “Please, have a pastry!”

The dropped box from earlier is shoved into Percival’s hands and he watches, bewildered, as she stands and nods at him.

“Have a good day, Director!”

And with that, she marches off quickly in the direction she had been originally headed. And returns just as quickly with something pinched between her fingers.

Percival automatically holds out a hand when she reaches hers out to him, and in his palm she drops an elastic band.

“For your hair,” she says, then leaves again.

After watching her disappear, Percival lays the box properly on his lap and takes a moment to tie the pesky strands back. He then opens the box. Inside are oddly-shaped pastries, and the smell that rises from them is heavenly. His stomach growls with an appetite that has been lacking in the past week, and he picks one up that looks like a beady-eyed, overweight mole. It was still quite warm.

Also the best thing he has ever tasted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone!
> 
> This is the last chapter before Newt shows up so I thought I'd give you something to anticipate for the weekend.

Director Percival Graves returns to work on a Thursday. Those who have not been informed stare blatantly in shock as the supposedly missing or dead man strides charismatically through the Woolworth building, the hair he conveniently forgot to cut tied into a short ponytail. Others whisper their awe or suspicion amongst themselves or look away in shame.

Percival cares for none of these things because other departments' reactions are of no consequence to him and heads straight for the President’s office. He stops by to check in and brush off her concerns, and thank her for the opportunity to come back.

“You are what the department needs, Director,” she says.

He bows and leaves.

The steps to his department are more nerve-wracking than the meeting with the President, and if he’s being honest he doesn’t know what to expect from his Aurora nor how he will react to their reactions. He can’t imagine they had the easiest time under Grindelwald, but then again it must not have been much different to how he ran the department before. He hears noise and bustling the closer he gets, but instead of becoming louder it quiets down until a hush falls over the hall when he arrives at the entrance.

Percival stops and takes in the sight, the faces. Many of them won’t meet his eyes either out of guilt or contempt, and others look dubious at his presence. There are some who, like Goldstein seem tentatively hopeful. For what, he isn’t sure.

He continues down the path to his office where he stops once again before entering. He turns around and faces them once more, sees some scrambling to pretend like they have not followed him with their eyes.

“Grindelwald invaded the very heart of MACUSA and made fools out of us,” Percival proclaims loudly, catching their attentions at once. “He sought to destroy what we all have been fighting for, the peace that we sacrificed people and time and energy to keep. But he did not succeed.”

Everyone is focused on him. This is all he can do for his aurors as a failure of a Director.

“If he succeeded, I might not be standing here alive right now. If he succeeded, this building would not be here, currently, housing the best aurors in the United States of America. People will not be happy with this for some time, criticize our weak points and revoke their trust. But that has happened before and each time MACUSA picked itself back up and moved on, adapted, grew stronger. Grindelwald has been captured by you and you should all be proud.

“I apologise for my weakness that allowed me to become a tool for him to use against us.” He thinks there may be some protests brewing but moves on. “But I, for one, choose not to be defeated by this. We will need to work harder from now on to take down his followers, and I will expect even better than before from all of you. Slacking off at any point will not be acceptable.”

Percival takes a breath and feels secretly pleased at their stunned expressions.

“And if anyone has a problem with my being here, please come talk to me in private. Fontaine?”

Deputy Director Fontaine shoots up out of his seat. “Yes, sir!”

“I’d like a verbal report on the most recent updates within the department in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, sir!”

Percival nods at him. “Good. That is all.”

In the privacy of his office, he stands just inside the door and gathers himself together. He hadn’t meant to do that, really. But for a selfish reason, knowing that all those faces out there had followed the dark wizard in disguise made him want to distinguish himself. And focusing on fixing what has been left behind will be the only way he can prevent himself from falling into a cycle of hurt and mistrust. In order to do that, he had to show he was willing to work with them. The last thing Percival wants is traces of Grindelwald left in this department because he can’t forgive them.

But he is only human and that may not always be the case as he faces them day after day. He is sure to have bad days as well as good, when he’ll feel like blaming someone or think about what he lost.

But for now, it’s a start.

Thankfully, no one bothers him in the fifteen minutes he takes to settle in his office before Fontaine’s report. A lot of it involves shuffling papers and reorganising his desk, wondering what Grindelwald had touched and unconsciously avoiding certain items. And, the more he thinks about his spontaneous speech the warmer he grows because he might as well have screamed, “I’m different from him, you fools!”

The start is not a very good start.

Fontaine’s report is a mix of detailed yet succinct. He stands there tall and broad, dark curly hair a usual mess on the top of his head and grey eyes focused. When he dismisses him, the auror does not leave immediately.

“It’s good to have you back, sir,” Fontaine says like he really means it.

Percival blinks but nods slowly. “Yes, well. Thank you. I heard you have done well in my absence.”

He must have said something wrong because Fontaine’s lips tighten unhappily and well, Percival hadn’t been expecting to be welcomed back with open arms.

“I don't deserve that. None of us do.”

That stings a little. He knows that very well himself, that his department doesn’t deserve his incompetency but he really does want to try again. A chance for redemption. But it seems he has his work cut out for him.

“We let you down in the most terrible way and you shouldn’t forgive us,” Fontaine grits through his teeth. “You shouldn’t be so kind.”

And that Percival did not expect. And he’s quite baffled. They think he was being _kind_.

“Kind? I wasn’t being kind, Fontaine,” Percival responds, frowning.

It's Fontaine's turn to blink. “Sir...”

“I scolded you lot to learn from this and do better, and saying that a job well done is a job well done is courtesy at best.”

Are his lips twitching? Is he trying not to laugh?

“Whatever you say, Director,” Fontaine says, definitely trying not to laugh.

Percival scowls. “What are you finding so amusing? I’m still your boss Fontaine.”

"Leaving now, sir,” the bastard salutes and leaves the office.

And then Percival is left perplexed, wondering about the sudden display of insubordination and lack of respect. A chill washes over him briefly but intensely. Are his new suppressants not working? He had decided to switch to scent-only suppressants out of concern that he may cause further harm to his body in the long run. Healer Eleanor, who somehow became something of a confidant, had guaranteed its effects. No, it must be paranoia on his part.

He needs to focus on actual work, and will deal with the strangeness of Fontaine and possibly others later.

The paper he starts reading is the report on the Grindelwald incident; he has avoided it for long enough and should finally face all the facts associated with it. Perhaps it will even give him some insight as to what to do next in terms of running his department.

Percival’s eyes run across the words and he takes them in with as much calm as he can manage. At times he has to pause, drag himself back from the plague of memories that haunt him. Each time makes his hands shake harder and at some point he leans back in his chair to breathe. He takes a moment to mourn inside for the poor lad that had suffered at Grindelwald’s hands and had been tormented by something out of his control. He finds out more about obscurus and obscurials than he ever would have in his career, all information provided by one Newt Scamander.

He had thought before that Scamander was a familiar name, and sees now the man’s relation to Theseus Scamander, the War Hero and a fellow soldier he had served alongside during the war.

Percival isn't sure if it's the photo, but there is something strange about the way Mr. Scamander looks. He appears meek at first glance, but there is also steel when the photo moves a certain way. He considers himself a good judge of character, so he doesn’t think he’s seeing things. It says that he’s an omega, and Percival can appreciate what the man has done for himself, similar to Percival’s own situation. His caring nature has led him to taking care of creatures and rehabilitating them (though not always through legal means, unfortunately). Young, ambitious and free. How nice.

If Mr. Scamander had been here, Percival would have liked to thank him personally for his part in apprehending Grindelwald and rescuing him. He is glad the omega had been the one to find him, saving him the trouble of possibly falling into the hands of an unruly alpha.

But. Something is off.

Percival remembers his last moment before waking up in the healing ward, and he had thought an alpha came to him. Had he been so deeply affected by that point to hallucinate an alpha’s presence? Or perhaps Mr. Scamander had found him after this alpha had left. If so...

He sighs, rubs his fingers against his temple. The possibilities are too many to consider. If there is anything he can write off as his imagination, it is those final moments of lucidity after his heat had started. Whatever had happened, he had woken up safe and untouched. That’s all that matters.

A knock on the door startles him from his musings, and he stacks the papers to put them away before inviting the visitor to come in.

It's Goldstein. She pokes her head through the door as if testing to see his invitation isn’t a trap.

“I did say to come in, Goldstein,” Percival remarks.

She sheepishly steps in, leaving the door open. Percival glances behind her, but she doesn’t get the hint.

“Welcome back, Director Graves,” she starts. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us for lunch today, as a way to celebrate your successful return.”

Ah, now he can see other curious faces beyond the opening; it seems Goldstein has gotten the short end of the stick. Percival understands that they are doing this out of misplaced guilt, but honestly, he’d rather they act normally towards him instead of wasting their sympathies. And is it lunch time already? He hadn’t noticed he spent so much time going over the report.

“Thank you for the offer, but I must decline—”

“It’s just this once, sir,” Goldstein interrupts, surprising him. “We all missed you and—... please?”

It's the second case of insubordination today, and it throws Percival off. Usually when he says something, they listen without protests or questions. They trust his judgement and defer to his authority. What in the world did Grindelwald do to them? It’s a question he needs an answer to, and after short deliberation, Percival accepts.

Goldstein smiles brightly at his response, but it drops when he simply glares back. She hastily tells him to meet them at the nearby deli in half an hour and closes the door behind her.

No, it's not a good start at all.

 

 

Lunch with his aurors is one of the weirdest experiences Percival has ever had. Nine of them had decided to gather, including Fontaine, Goldstein, and most of the Senior Aurors. They keep smiling at him when they aren’t throwing sad eyes his way and it’s somewhat disturbing. It confirms his theory that they are only pitying him and acting out of guilt and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s thankful that they at least draw the line at touching him.

He will just have to prove himself by working harder and asserting proper authority over them. That’s what he has always done, and he’s good at it.

Except...

Things don’t go according to plan because the harder he works them and himself, the more they come to him smiling, and for some reason Goldstein has taken his thanks for the pastries from that one morning as permission to keep dropping pastries off at his desk every now and then. He doesn’t want to admit that he enjoys the treats, but maybe one day he will ask her where she buys them from.

Senior Auror Mathews starts asking him out for celebration drinks with the rest of the Senior Aurors after closing cases. Percival has refused successfully so far but the damn woman keeps asking like she thinks she can wear him down and he can’t write her up for such an insignificant issue because that’s just abusing his authority. Morgana help him.

Of course, that isn’t to say everyone has changed for the worse. There are those who whisper behind his back, doubting his competency and generally act unhappy with his leadership. They have been there since before Grindelwald and though they grumble and complain, they don’t cause much trouble so Percival can ignore them. And at other times, he’s happy to put them in their place.

He still has nightmares. Some are similar to the first one, others are of the alpha that had once rejected his parents’ offer of marriage for Percival, strangely enough. Sometimes Grindelwald is that alpha and he accepts the proposal and torments him within the legal bounds of marriage. That is to say, he does whatever he wishes. But Percival always wakes up with fear choking him and a cry on his lips, his whole body shaking. He never falls back asleep after that.

He feels worse on the bad days when he's snapping unnecessarily at his aurors and barking orders at them, only to mutter apologies and feel guilty for the rest of the day. Their pity or fear lets him get away with it and he hates it so much. He wants their respect and neither of those are it.

Now they look at him with concern because he can feel himself growing haggard and when Seraphina implores him to talk to someone about his problems, he laughs harshly.

“I don't have anyone else, Sera. You know that.”

That isn’t completely true. But this isn’t something he has any desire to burden his family with especially after reassuring them through letters (that Grindelwald had never written during his reign, thank Merlin) that everything is absolutely fine, nothing has changed, nothing is wrong.

 

 

Several months after his official reinstatement, the aurors’ false compassion and friendliness only puts him on edge and he sees himself failing again in front of their eyes. His magic which is almost fully recovered wavers randomly and his abilities in the field cannot be guaranteed. He had promised himself not to let Grindelwald break him and his department, but he has become a liar and that burns.

Healer Eleanor tells him it is the change in his hormones on top of the aftermath of his traumatic experiences the next time he visits her to renew his supply. He doesn’t want to snap at her, too, so he just takes the pills and walks away.

Percival can't sleep, he won't eat, and he knows he's close to breaking down. He thinks of quitting for everyone else’s sake.

And by the time Newt Scamander unexpectedly returns to New York, he has long since forgotten about the man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you have all been waiting for: Enter the Newt.

Percival finds himself sitting outside at the park in the middle of a night, burnt out after another nightmare. A disillusionment charm is cast around him because it won’t do to be noticed showing up regularly at a specific location.

Yes, disillusionment; that describes his life right now. He had tried so hard, had thought he could do it. Overcome and move forward. And that had faded bit by bit until he had been forced to accept the reality that this time, his effort and will aren’t enough. He is damaged in ways beyond help. Percival clenches his hands into fists angrily, pounds his knees once, twice, three times. Even that small action leaves him drained, because he has no strength to begin with.

His loss of appetite had only increased in the following months of his rescue and when he had noticed his empty liquor cabinet that should have taken years to finish, he had been so angry and disgusted with himself, had smashed the bottles against the walls of his house. At least that time he had been able to clean with magic.

Percival has been drinking only water and coffee since.

But unfortunately, his other problems are not as easy to solve like his previous alcoholic tendencies by sheer will and change of heart alone. He doesn’t know what to do. He has let down his team, his President, his city. His family and the Graves names. Percival bites his lip hard against the frustrated cry that wants to burst forth, because he just might start crying and that would be much too shameful.

He sits there on the bench, staring blankly into the darkness and silhouettes until even those scare him. He stands then, ready to go back to the building he can barely call home but his head spins violently and his vision tunnels and then he doesn’t remember any more.

 

 

The smells of grass, straw, and animals are the first things he notices when he returns to consciousness even before opening his eyes. Next are sounds, twittering and chirping, grunts and shuffles. Mercy Lewis, he had passed out in the park and now it must be broad daylight with people passing by and he’s missing work. With some heaviness still clinging to them, his eyes open only to widen in shock when he finds even bigger ones staring at him. Percival yelps and sits up quickly, overbalances and falls onto the ground. He groans and curls briefly into himself, thoroughly confused. When he looks up, he sees that he fell from a cot.

A cot?

The damn big-eyed creature, long limbs and furry all over, follows him holding a glass of water and offers it, clearly expecting him to take it. Percival scrambles for his wand and panics when it isn’t there inside his coat. Then he notices he’s not even wearing his coat. What is going on?

“Dougal! That was terribly rude of you to scare our guest like that,” Percival hears from somewhere nearby. “I know you’re worried but that is no way to wake up someone.”

A shadow looms over him and he involuntarily flinches before realising what it is.

“Ah, there you are. Hello.”

It’s Newt Scamander. The photos of him that Percival has seen do not do justice the sheer vibrancy of this figure who is smiling uncertainly as he steps around the cot and shoos the creature aside. It could also just be the light, Percival doesn’t know. The man crouches in front of him, which makes him flinch a second time and concern passes over the other’s face. He takes the glass from the creature and offers it just the same, saying, “Just water, I promise.”

Percival glances at it sceptically and he swallows, noting his sudden thirst.

But he says, “My wand.”

Scamander tips his head to the side, confusion evident. “Your wand?”

“Did you take my wand? Where did you put it?”

He doesn’t mean to be curt and sound a little desperate at the end but Percival can’t think straight, having no recollection of how he got here and why Scamander is here and how he’s trapped here without his wand.

Scamander does not mock him or laugh, though he has every reason to, considering the Director of Magical Security is in this pitiful state. He simply reaches behind himself with the unoccupied hand and pulls out Percival’s wand. He holds it out, and waits patiently until Percival feels relaxed enough to take it back.

“Sorry about that; I had to take it to keep it away from some of these guys,” and here he shoots a look over his shoulder at something, then turns back to smile at him.

Scamander keeps his voice low and soft, his movements slow and obvious. He is trying to be calm and reassuring because Percival isn’t, and another time he might have thought it patronizing but he just wants his body to stop trying to choke itself and soon finds himself breathing in sync with the man in front of him.

It feels strangely familiar.

“Are you alright to stand, Mr. Graves?”

Percival nods.

Scamander stands first to put the glass down and helps him up. He directs Percival to a chair off to the side and they get there just as his legs start to give out. Percival grits his teeth in humiliation. When the man offers the water again, he takes it gratefully and Scamander starts talking as he drinks.

“I’m sorry about Dougal, he didn’t mean to frighten you. He just likes to stay close when he gets worried or protective, and well, you’ve been out for a while with no signs of waking and so he wanted to—”

Percival tunes him out because his mind is too busy trying to figure out what had just happened, how this man had approached him like he was a cornered animal and calmed him. He’s also distracted by how tall Scamander is for an omega, even taller from this perspective. Not that Percival is short by any means but generally omegas are small in stature and he’s used to being the tallest of them. The poor fellow seems accustomed to hunching his shoulders to make himself look smaller, though, and it tugs at Percival’s heart because he understands what it’s like to be judged by appearances.

This is not how he imagined he would meet this man if at all and he recognises the hilarity in passing out and being found by the same person a second time.

“—and I suppose you aren’t listening at all right now.”

Percival snaps to attention, flushing slightly.

“Ah,” Percival clears his throat, then tries again. “My apologies, Mr. Scamander. This is all sort of overwhelming at the moment and I’d appreciate if you would let me know what exactly happened and how I ended up... here.”

Here being nowhere he recognises, some kind of shed, and a glance outside one of the windows reveals an expanse of green land and trees to one side and savannah-like environment on another.

“Oh, yes, of course! Of course you’d be a little disoriented. You woke up somewhere completely different, right. Right.”

Right. He remembers from the Goldstein’s description that Scamander isn’t the most eloquent of people when it comes to... other people.

“You see, I just came back to New York a couple nights ago—”

“A couple nights ago?” Percival interrupts. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Er, a couple nights?”

“You sound unsure about that.”

Indeed, he couldn’t have possibly been out cold for more than half a day at most. The sun outside is high in the sky.

“No, it’s true, sorry,” Scamander says, and Percival has to strain to hear because the man has his head bowed and is directing his words to the ground. “I landed just past midnight and was making my way through the park when I found you unconscious in front of a bench. I didn’t have much choice since everyone was asleep and I didn’t know where you lived so I decided to bring you into my suitcase, sorry. I was supposed to meet the Goldsteins yesterday for breakfast at Ja—a bakery but Tina sent me a letter saying you hadn’t come into work and they needed to find you and that’s when I let her know what happened.”

All of this is said in a single stream of breath and once Percival parses out all the sentences he is reasonably upset.

“The President sends her regards, by the way, and asks that you rest for a bit before reporting to her,” Scamander adds almost distractedly, eyes shifting.

He realises too late what the man is staring at, and grasps both the glass and wand tighter in a futile attempt to cease the tremors in his hands.

“This...” Percival starts, then stops. He takes a fortifying breath and tries again. “I have caused you quite the inconvenience, Mr. Scamander. You have my sincere apology and gratitude.”

He places the cup down on the floor and transfers the wand to his left hand to wipe his right on his trousers before extending it.

“And I believe we have not been formally introduced. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security at MACUSA.”

He knows he doesn’t exactly sound grateful or happy, and the introduction is sour on his tongue. But it’s the best he can do while he’s distraught at the fact that he left himself vulnerable out in the open and now his rescuer must think so little of him to encounter him twice in such a deplorable condition.

Amazingly, there isn’t a hint of disdain when Scamander meets his eyes briefly. He smiles, and it seems genuine.

“Newt Scamander, magizoologist,” he returns, grip unexpectedly firm when he takes Percival’s hand. “But please, call me Newt. It was no trouble at all, Mr. Graves; I was happy to help.”

The hand in his is warm and calloused, befitting of someone who is a caretaker of creatures. It feels rather nice and Percival is somewhat reluctant when he lets go after an appropriate amount of time has passed. For some reason, Percival believes him and something unclenches inside even though he still feels bad about causing the man problems since his first day back in New York. He looks around, unsure of how to respond to such kindness.

So, this is the famous—infamous?—suitcase. From what little he can see through the window, it is an extraordinary weaving of spells and intricacies of harmonizing the different environments. The scents, sounds, and sun are so realistic it’s hard to believe he’s inside a container of sorts. It’s an incredible feat and Percival is suitably impressed by such display of high-level magic. To think that a single person is capable of all this... Newt Scamander is truly a talented wizard.

But then a thought occurs.

“Hold on, why am I still in your suitcase if everyone has already been informed? You could have had me moved to my home easily.”

Scamander stiffens at his question and rubs his neck in a nervous gesture. He turns slightly red as well.

“That, well, t-that is...” he stutters. “You needed rest and I—I mean we thought it’d be best if you weren’t disturbed at all...” He trails off at the end and bites his lip.

Percival inwardly sighs. He manages to mess up even the simplest of interactions involving an expression of gratitude and now he has offended the man who is turning redder by the second. He hadn’t meant to throw the act of kindness back in his face by questioning it. He had only been curious.

“It’s alright, Mr. Scamander, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

And Scamander finally looks up at him with eyes so full of hope as if he is the one who needs to be forgiven. He’s almost like an overgrown puppy, and the thought amuses him.

“Newt.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Newt, remember?”

“Yes, right. Newt.”

Scamander—Newt brightens further at that and Percival wonders how simple he is to be delighted by something like this. Not in a bad way, though.

“May I call you Percival?” Newt asks suddenly, then seems unsure. “If you don’t mind that is. It’s fine if you feel uncomfortable or anything...”

He appears frustrated for a moment, then sighs. “I’m sorry; I’m not the best at social interactions and tend to annoy people.”

Seeing the man downtrodden again, Percival impulsively decides to be uncomfortable for someone else this once. It’s also the least he can do for this man who has done so much for him.

“Percival’s fine.”

Newt looks pleased and, well, Percival doesn’t think it will be all that bad being on a first-name basis with someone he has known for barely an hour.

With that awkwardness out of the way, Percival feels very tired all of a sudden even though he woke up well-rested. If he hadn’t been sitting already, he would have done so now. His stomach chooses this moment to growl and let him know that he hasn’t eaten anything for the better part two days (though if he’s being truthful, it has been weeks since he has had a proper meal).

He dreads going back to his house, but there is nothing else he can do. He would prefer to return to his office to catch some sleep there but he doesn’t feel up to facing the others. What would they think of him now?

“I will take my leave now,” he says as casually as possible. “May I have my coat, please?”

Newt is frowning at him, eyes considering, and he opens his mouth, then shuts it. And does it again.

Then finally with a sigh, “Please wait here while I fetch it.”

The man heads towards the coat stand in the corner and Percival rests his eyes. He hears muttering and some shuffling, and doesn’t see a white object floating over to Newt and being snuck into his coat pocket.

Once his coat is back on, wand tucked inside, Percival remembers something else.

“I need to ask another favour of you, if you don’t mind. I understand that I already owe you my life and more but this is of great importance to me.”

Newt draws back slightly and his eyes become wary. “If this is about the creatures, I assure you—”

Percival shakes his head, the words pulling a reluctant smile from him. He has heard the stories, yes, and Newt’s reaction proves how accurate those stories are. He is clearly aware of how much trouble these creatures of his cause.

"Nothing to do with your creatures, Newt,” he assures, and watches his shoulders relax slightly. Percival’s own tense in turn as he continues, “You are aware that I am an omega.”

His straightforwardness seems to surprise Newt.

“Y-yes—I—yes, but I haven’t, I didn’t—”

“My true nature is a secret of mine that many do not know of, and it needs to remain this way. It is integral to my work so I ask that you don’t tell this to anyone. I am hoping you will understand, since you are also in the business of hiding yourself.”

Yes, Percival has noticed that Newt is lacking the distinct scent of an omega for whatever reason and he respects that decision as a fellow independent omega with an established career.

Newt frowns again though it’s softer this time. He nods slowly.

“Of course. I will definitely keep your secret,” he answers, and sounds just as sincere as before.

Percival doesn’t slump in relief, but it’s a close thing.

“Thank you,” he says, pouring as much gratitude as he can into those two words. “I am in great debt to you and I will not forget it. If you need anything from me, please don’t hesitate to ask. As long as it is within legal bounds, I will do my best to help you.”

He won't hear of any protests on this matter, and Newt seems to understand that.

"That's very generous of you, Percival. Thank you."

Newt smiles again and it crinkles his eyes, removes years from his already young-looking face. It's... cute. As he thought before, he resembles a puppy.

On the other hand, Percival feels old. His body reminds him of that as he climbs up the ladder out of the case, as he walks down the streets in the setting sun. It’s when he tucks his hands inside the pockets to warm them that he feels something in one of them, and he pulls out a wrapped sandwich. A little squished, but still intact. On one side of the wrapper, it says in near illegible handwriting: _‘Thought you might be hungry –Newt’_.

When he gets home, Percival warms the sandwich of assorted meats and cheese and eats it with a cup of coffee for dinner. Then he curls up on the couch under a blanket and feels better than he has in months.

Thankfully, there is no nightmare that night. Instead, he dreams of a comforting scent and soothing voice which he forgets when he wakes the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did take some liberties with the structure of Newt's work area and case. I watched the particular scene in the movie a few times and it wouldn't work for what I had in mind so I hope you'll let the discrepancies slide.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd like to direct your attention to the 'unreliable narrator' tag. Because I am writing strictly from Percival's POV, what he interprets and feels may not necessarily reflect the whole truth of the matter or situation. I hope you'll keep that in mind as the story continues. Thanks again for all your support!

Much to his annoyance, Percival finds his office being invaded every half hour by a different auror the day he comes back from his impromptu break. He had tried to be as nonchalant as possible to avoid drawing attention to how he evidently can’t manage himself but his plan goes out the window from the beginning, starting with his secretary’s, Ms. Kett's, personal delivery of a breakfast sandwich. She wouldn’t say who it’s from, says she doesn’t know either, but it’s still warm when he bites into it (after checking it over, of course).

They don’t even interrupt him with any proper business and he doesn’t know whether to be concerned with their apparent slacking off or amused by the poorly made-up excuses for dropping by:

_“I couldn’t remember if I submitted my report or not—”_

_“Then I’d be happy to get rid of the one in my hand so you can rewrite it in the next hour and remember personally handing it to me.”_

_“Oh, that one! I remember now, sir.”_

And...

_“... And surely such treatment is considered workplace harassment, sir.”_

_“I work with a bunch of five-year-olds,” Percival mutters under his breath._

_“Excuse me, sir?”_

_“Nothing. Go and tell O’Brien that if he charms the coffee maker one more time, he will be banned from all access to caffeine in this building indefinitely.”_

As well as...

_"Isn’t it lovely weather today for catching criminals, sir?”_

_“Does that mean you’re hoping someone will commit a crime today, Mr. Kinney?”_

_“No. No, of course not.”_

Also...

_“The wands permit office is acting up, sir. I think you should go strike the fear of Graves into them.”_

_“... What in the world are you even_ saying _, O’Brien.”_

_“Um. For justice?”_

_“Get out.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

So, Percival has had enough by lunchtime.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re all doing? It won’t happen again so stop this foolishness immediately and get back to your respective work!” he growls into the room and storms back to his office, contemplating if he should lock it for emergencies-only.

Percival settles back into his chair with a sigh, finally able to breathe a little. On one hand, he’s a little touched that his aurors wish to check on him. He must have worried them when he didn’t show up at work without any notice and in light of recent events, it’s perfectly understandable. On the other hand, he doesn’t need to be coddled or looked after. He has been forcing himself to eat at least the required amount for the sustenance his body needs. The sleeping he can’t do much about except artificially induce it or pass out from exhaustion, but after the whole alcoholism experience he tends to avoid the draughts.

Either way, he doesn’t need to be scolded again by Eleanor with words like ‘malnutrition’ and ‘overexertion’ being thrown around. Mercy Lewis, that woman can be frightening if she wants to be.

Unbidden, he thinks of Newt. He’s a man who knows how to take care of things and hadn’t made Percival too uncomfortable with his gentle hands and even gentler words. Shy fellow, though. Percival had forgotten to ask why the man had come back to New York a few days ago, but it must be some creature-related business, he supposes. The last visit had been for something creature-related as well and he had gotten involved with Percival that time, too.

Percival snorts quietly.

He also did say something about meeting Goldstein. They must have become friends from that incident and perhaps are interested in pursuing something more. Not a bad alpha-omega match, if he does say so himself. Both are strong and kind people.

And he should stop all this pondering. It wouldn’t do for him to slack off right after he told his employees not to.

 

 

Percival is elbows-deep into paperwork—seriously, how can it accumulate so much in mere _days_ —when he hears a faint knock on the door.

"Come in," he calls, not looking up from the latest report he is making notes on. “If this is about anything less important than a witness, a confession, or a lead, I swear to Morgana you will be put on kitchen duty for a month.”

“Oh. Er...” the person mumbles, and Percival freezes. “Perhaps it is? I’m not quite sure.”

Percival slowly raises his eyes, and sure enough, Newt Scamander is standing there in front of his desk. He’s just as vibrant as Percival thought he had hallucinated previously. He sees clearer now that he isn’t about to faint: brown-almost-ginger hair and a bright blue coat are the first things that stand out, then freckles that are all over the face, surrounding green eyes.

He realises he has been staring too long when Newt fidgets and flushes slightly.

“Newt,” Percival greets and holds his hand out for a shake, pretending he isn’t embarrassed by his lack of manners. “I’m sorry about that; I’ve had a trying day.”

“That’s alright, I can only imagine how busy you must be all the time,” Newt says and returns the shake.

Percival notes the suitcase in the other hand, properly shut. Good.

“So, what brings you to MACUSA?” Percival asks after they’ve both sat down. “Are you in need of assistance already?”

“No! No, everything's fine, thank you. I just—I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

He knows Newt means well, but after the day he has had it makes him frown and react defensively.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not helpless. I know you’ve seen me in frankly awful conditions but those were rare occasions and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you to look after me like I’m some _damsel in distress_ or one of your creatures,” he ends on a near-growl, unconsciously leaning forward on his desk, signaling his aggression.

Newt, whose eyes have been steadily widening at his outburst, shakes his head. “O-of course! I didn’t mean—I wasn’t implying anything of the sort, Percival. My apologies. I was only worried...” and he looks much too apologetic for someone who has done nothing wrong.

Percival feels his face fall in shame, and he leans back against his chair, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to calm himself. Damn it, he keeps losing control in front of this man.

“You don’t need to apologise; my behaviour was deplorable,” Percival mutters, then more to himself, “I’m being a downright, irritable bastard.”

“That’s quite understandable,” Newt says softly, and nothing else. He doesn’t try to elaborate on how trauma affects a person and such like others have, as if Percival doesn’t know why.

Percival opens his eyes again, and is surprised when Newt meets them without uncertainty or fear. He had thought his anger would’ve frightened the skittish man.

“Just because I have a reason to, doesn’t mean I should.”

Newt's face softens at that, strangely. "And just because you acted like one, doesn’t mean you are.”

Percival stares, and Newt stares right back. He absently thinks about what he had heard regarding impressions of Newt, how the man generally won’t meet people’s eyes.

Is this what they call... ‘having a moment’? Percival has never really connected with other omegas before—at least not openly as an omega himself—all things considered. It isn’t a bad feeling.

But then Newt chirps, bursting the moment.

“Not now, Pickett,” Newt says to himself.

But actually, he’s talking to a stick in his coat pocket. A stick that moves and climbs out by itself and sits itself on Newt’s shoulder.

“I’m guessing that’s one of your creatures,” Percival observes.

“Yes, this is Pickett! Say hello, Pickett,” and to Percival’s wonder, the stick actually waves at him to which he nods.

“A bowtruckle,” Newt continues. “This isn’t normal behaviour, really, following humans around, but this one’s got attachment issues as you can see. All his other friends stay properly in their tree.”

“I see.” But not really.

“I’ll show them to you someday, if you’re amenable. Last time you were in my case you only stayed inside the workshop.”

“Yes, someday. It’s kind of you to offer, thank you.”

It makes Percival curious now that he is reminded of his minimal time in the case, and while he anticipates further exploration of it, he also worries how many permits he may need to draw up for what resides within.

“Anyway!” Newt exclaims suddenly. “That aside... my actual business is about my new job.”

“Your new job?”

“Yes, I’ve been hired by the President as an expert consultant and possibly eventually the head of a new department for the protection of magical creatures. I’m also here to promote my newly published book, ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’. I just gave Tina a copy right before I came here since I promised her one. By the way, have you had dinner yet?”

Newt once again displays his talent for speaking many words quickly in a single breath, then disappears behind the desk to rummage through something like he hasn't just dropped important information into Percival's lap, figuratively speaking.

“I heard that you skipped lunch, so you must be hungry,” his voice continues, floating up from somewhere beyond the desk. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Percival. I’ve had a busy day, too, so I could use a proper meal myself.”

Newt reappears holding a couple paper bags in his hand, smiling.

And Percival sighs, makes a mental note to get details from Seraphina tomorrow morning, and resigns himself to unexpectedly having dinner with Newt.

The sandwich ends up being quite delicious and satisfying, almost as satisfying as the comfortable silence they share.

(And if he has to brush off crumbs and remove grease stains from his papers later on, that’s a small price to pay.)

 

 

Seraphina confirms the next day what Newt has said about his new position as a consultant for cases involving the handling of magical beasts.

She says that he is creating awareness for them worldwide with his book, and that it’s time MACUSA supports the cause by heading investigations in a safe and informed manner as an example to the other branches. And one day, eventually, they will no longer be endangered and misunderstood.

To Percival, it just sounds like more paperwork.

The Congress meeting for it goes about as well as expected, and Percival sits through an unnecessarily long session where old grouches argue against change and novel ideas and others argue for the sake of arguing but then in the end everyone is willingly or begrudgingly swayed by the President’s excellent persuasion. And all the while, the man in question doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t get a chance to, really.

Poor Newt, except Percival is here technically because of him so, not so poor Newt.

But then they decide that there needs to be a whole new meeting to hear what the man has to say in his defense.

Newt stumbles a little at first but then quickly gains confidence as he speaks of his passion and shares knowledge he has personally experienced and it’s refreshing to see such enthusiasm. He thinks even some of the old grouches grow fond of him by the end, especially when he finishes his speech and blushes because everyone is focused on him.

It’s a success for one magizoologist.

The department for documents and forms is going to be in for a field day. A field week, even.

And so, Newt gains a work desk in the Investigations room in a section right across from Goldstein within the next few days and he becomes the department’s resident sweetheart (troublemaker). It’s ridiculous.

They’re all very sweet on him, especially the females and the alphas, and Newt doesn’t seem to know what to do with the attention. Percival wonders if he should step in and order them to back down even though they’re only talking to him, because Newt is clearly uncomfortable. But Goldstein does a good job of that herself, protecting her intended omega, perhaps.

What does this all mean for Percival?

The answer is: more paperwork.

 

 

Things change greatly after that, even though the only difference is Newt. Newt here, Newt on cases, Newt in the field alongside the aurors. He quickly proves himself to be an asset when cases result in less collateral damage because someone knows how to calm down a rampaging unicorn or distract pixies from attacking everything in sight. On one memorable occasion, Newt performs the mating dance of an erumpent and it becomes the most talked-about topic for weeks. And then some try to perform their own mating dance towards Newt and get their asses kicked by Goldstein.

Children.

But that isn’t the only thing that changes. Newt apparently finds it acceptable to come into his office, coax him into taking breaks and eat something throughout the day. It’s the thing Percival hates the most but he can’t find it in him to turn down Newt’s stupid puppy-face that the bastard learned for the purpose of tormenting him. And he can’t truly be mad when the man asks so sincerely.

With such frequent visits, he ends up finding Pickett (who is always with Newt) in some part of his office more often than not. The thing seems to like his hair the most, what with the amount of time it spends in the locks.

(“‘He’, Percival, not ‘it’.”)

What he really hates is that it seems to send a message to his aurors that they are at liberty to do the same.

How on earth is he supposed to maintain his professional dignity when O’Brien, a Senior Auror, a fully grown alpha of significant stature whines about how Percival is mean and has _never_ accepted his invitations for lunch and, _“boss only likes the newbie even though we’ve been here forever with him”._

And that’s how Percival ends up going out to lunch with his aurors a second time. He isn’t sure if it’s better than the first time but then someone asks a highly inappropriate question and Newt chokes on his drink while Goldstein sprays hers and Percival had forgotten he could laugh that hard.

 

 

Tonight is hard on Percival. He has been at the office two nights in a row, working long after everyone has gone home and working long before everyone arrives. He knows he should catch some sleep, but this particular case is time-sensitive and the assigned team has been putting forth everything into solving it as quickly as possible so it’s only fair that he does the same.

He pores over the notes again and again until his eyes blur, then he takes a short break and continues. He gulps down cold coffee and curls his hands into fists because they have started to shake.

He doesn’t notice when he falls asleep over the desk.

Grindelwald shows up in the nightmare.

_He’s in heat again, and even though it has been almost a year since his last ever heat, it’s always so vivid and visceral in his dream, like his body will never forget._

_Grindelwald touches him, drags a thumb across his bottom lip, caresses his neck. Percival whines but he fears, lusts but is disgusted. The teasing touches only make him burn hotter and it’s the worst because that means he has to beg._

_“Come on, Percival, you can do it,” Grindelwald laughs cruelly._

“It’s okay, Percival. You can do it.”

_That doesn’t sound like Grindelwald..._

_Grindelwald isn’t there anymore. But he still burns._

“That’s right, open your eyes.”

_But they are open._

“Good, good. There you go.”

And Percival blinks. Blinks again. He sees his bookshelf.

“Percival?”

It’s Newt, but Percival can’t see him.

“I’m right here.”

Newt floats into his vision. He tries to turn his head to get a better view, but everything feels so heavy. He still feels hot.

“Hello, there. Do you mind if I...?” Sideways-Newt asks something.

A hand brushes his hair that has loosened from his ponytail aside and lands on his forehead. He flinches from how cold it is and involuntarily whimpers.

“Oh dear, running a bit of a fever, are we? I thought you were running yourself ragged.”

Percival hears a hum, then “I’m going to move you to the sofa, Percival. I apologise in advance if I’m overstepping any boundaries.”

He doesn’t get what Newt is trying to say, can only blink and try to stay awake. And then he’s being pulled upright but no, Percival wants to keep his head down.

“Sorry, sorry, bear with me here for a moment.”

Then he’s no longer sitting but is weightless in the air. Is Newt carrying him?

“Don’t worry,” Newt chuckles, “I won’t tell anyone that the Director was carried like a bride. But I don’t mind this, really. Dougal, will you fetch that for me, please?”

He doesn’t get it, and before long he is set down onto the sofa like Newt had said. Percival immediately curls up on his side, shivering. A blanket covers him soon after and he grabs it thankfully, pulling it tighter around himself.

“I’d like to take you into my case but I figure you’ve had enough of falling asleep in one place and waking up in another.”

“No more...” Percival mumbles.

Newt brushes some strands out of his face and the cold fingertips aren’t welcome.

“Sorry. Too cold, I guess?”

Percival would like to go back to sleep now because the aches in his body are starting to make themselves known and he doesn’t want to become fully aware of them.

“Good night, Percival. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He thinks he feels a soft pressure at his temple but doesn’t care and falls asleep the next second.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guuuuuuuys you're so sweet I can't believe you like this and stuff
> 
> Also, is it necessary to warn for angst?

In the morning, Percival can only think that he somehow had dragged himself to the couch in a sleep-and-fever-addled state. He’s glad he did because even having slept properly on a horizontal surface, his body is quite sore from straining too much. He's no longer feeling as cold as earlier in the night, though, small mercies.

Catching a fever like a child at his age, how foolish. To even go so far as to hallucinate someone being there by his side...

At least no one else had been here to witness possible delusional remarks.

And that reminds him, he should write back to his mother who is concerned by his infrequent letters in the more recent months. He hadn’t meant to worry her, but between work and trying not to break apart from time to time he just hadn’t been able to.

But first things first, he needs to be presentable again. A quick spell does the trick and he’s just in time for the person behind the door.

It’s Newt. What a surprise.

“Good afternoon, Percival. I see you’re up and about,” he greets.

And Percival asks, a little shocked, “It’s afternoon already?”

“Yes, just after lunch, actually. I figure you’re hungry about now so I thought I’d ask if you’d join me.”

Oh no, the case.

Ignoring Newt’s suggestion, Percival strides quickly to his desk to find the notes and he does, but he also finds a neatly stacked report of the case he had been working on.

Another knock draws his attention to the door.

“Come in,” he answers distractedly, wondering what has happened.

Fontaine enters, glances at Newt briefly before walking purposefully over to his desk.

“The perpetrator has been apprehended and is in the holding cells, sir. He was caught early this morning. Thanks to you, we were able to get there just in time for the exchange,” he says.

Percival almost sighs in relief, but instead just nods and gives an approving look.

“You’ve all worked hard,” he says. “Excellent job.”

Fontaine smiles at that—they’ve all been smiling more at him, lately—and nods back.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’d be nice if all reports in the future arrive on my desk in a timely fashion like this one.”

It won’t do to seem soft, after all.

Fontaine scowls, but somehow Percival senses he isn’t serious.

“Really, Mr. Graves? _That’s_ what you have to say?”

__And somehow Percival can’t help an amused smirk._ _

“Go get yourselves some pastries from that bakery you all like and tell them to put it on a tab for me. My treat.”

The scowl disappears so quickly and Fontaine grins so hard he has to wonder if the man's face doesn’t hurt.

“You’re the best, boss.”

“Yes, yes, no need for flattery. I already know.”

“So humble, too.”

After Fontaine leaves, he realises he has completely forgotten about Newt.

The man is looking at him with a fond smile and Percival clears his throat, embarrassed.

“You said something about lunch?” he asks while shuffling papers for the sake of doing something.

He wants Newt to stop looking at him like that immediately.

Percival hears him step closer and then there are hands in his hair and he freezes as it’s pulled back and tied up.

“Your hair has gotten quite long. Perhaps I can trim it for you next time?”

Percival looks up and to the side where Newt is standing, and this close he's struck again by how tall the other omega is. He brushes off the hands that are untangling the strands now, ears burning.

“Next time, perhaps,” he repeats dumbly. “And you’re doing it again; I told you not to.”

“Doing what?“ Newt asks a little too innocently, blinking wide.

“This. This ‘taking care of’ business, and—and touching me so casually. I am your boss, you know.”

Percival knows he sounds flustered rather than stern but that’s because he _is_ and he has a bit of trouble trying to be something he’s not when it comes to Newt. Damn it.

“Yes,” Newt drawls slowly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. “You’re also my _friend_ , Percival, and friends take care of each other.”

And then, casual as you please, he places the back of his hand on Percival's forehead, so much to his shock that he fails to respond.

“Oh, fever’s broken. That’s good. Now let’s go eat.”

Then he leaves.

Percival stands there, mind racing and heart beating too fast, so, so confused.

Wait.

Had he not been hallucinating, then?

 

 

Whoever had said Newt Scamander is a shy, meek fellow is a filthy, stinking liar.

At least where creatures and _friends_ are concerned.

Merlin’s beard.

Something had changed that day, the day Newt had invaded his personal space, tying his hair and checking his temperature and Percival had stood there doing nothing about it.

He has already come to the conclusion that indeed, Newt had once again found him passed out, that time on his desk and moved him to the couch (how? Levitation?). It's becoming a pattern and Percival doesn’t like it.

After that, Newt keeps patting his shoulder as he passes by, puts a hand on his back as they discuss a case together, always standing side-by-side, brushes a hand down his arm or chest with the excuse of fixing a wrinkle in his shirt since the Director always needs to appear impeccable.

And Percival glares at him and shrugs off his attempts, albeit half-heartedly.

His subordinates think it’s adorable, saying that Newt’s omega recognises Percival’s strength and enjoys being around him, brings out his tactile side. Newt nor Tina, thankfully, are around when they say this.

At that point, Percival puts his foot down and goes so far as to threaten Newt after slapping away his hand. He _does not_ feel guilty when Newt looks hurt while he apologises.

Newt respects his personal space from then on.

The worst thing is, Percival doesn’t really mind it. Not since his mother, not since he had been a young boy has anyone touched him without sexual or harmful intent. He had always kept his distance, partly in fear of being found out and partly because if he lets his omega get accustomed to such things, he would be seen as weak, always in need of a kind touch.

Like him right now. Bordering on regretting telling Newt to stop. But he stubbornly doesn’t want to say it’s okay after telling him it’s not okay.

And all this thinking is just winding him up into a mood unbefitting of a mature adult so he decides to step out to get some fresh air. If anyone asks, it’s the most recent nightmare that made him claustrophobic inside his own house and drove him outside. Which is true, but only part of the reason.

It’s also becoming a pattern to walk through the streets right before the sun comes up to go sit in the park. This time, however, he keeps walking and he is perfectly fine and not out of breath as he passes the park. He enters into another neighbourhood on the other side, and he thinks about finding that bakery he had forgotten to ask about numerous times for one reason or another. He recalls how Goldstein had walked through the park from this end with a box so he assumes this is the right direction. He hasn’t seen her do so, lately.

It doesn’t take long to find, surprisingly. Easy enough to see which businesses are open at this time because they need an early start, but he hadn’t expected the bakery to be the only one on one of the main streets. With a lineup in front of the store already, no less.

Kowalski Quality Baked Goods. It’s an oddly familiar name.

By the time it’s Percival’s turn to be served, the sun is up for the morning and he is able to see the quaint little display of all the baked goods. Because he is the last customer of the morning rush, he takes his time looking around and smelling all the delicious scents. And then he realises he knows some of the shapes. He sees the erumpent, the demiguise, a _unicorn_ , and all other sorts of creatures that he recognises from Newt’s book that he has been reading in his spare time.

He’s certain this is a No-Maj bakery, so how is this possible?

“Excuse me,” he calls the clerk, “may I speak to the owner of this bakery?”

“Certainly, sir,” the young beta, replies. “Looking to hear the story, I’m guessing? We get that a lot.” Then she turns around and says, “Mr. Kowalski!”

“I’ll be there in just a minute,” a man calls out from the back somewhere in the room behind the cashier, “just need to put the next batches in.”

“You heard him, yes? Is there anything you’d like to try in the meantime?”

“Actually, I would like—” Percival starts and is interrupted when the door behind him opens.

“Oh, hello, Ms. Goldstein!”

 _Goldstein_?

Percival turns around, and sees not the Goldstein he had been expecting but the younger omega one.

Queenie Goldstein gasps when she sees him and pales.

“S-sir,” she stutters, eyes unable to meet his, “what brings you here?”

Percival, perplexed by her reaction, says, “Well, it would be the same reason as yours, wouldn’t it?”

She just stares blankly at him, with something akin to fear in her eyes.

And Percival doesn’t know exactly why because he hasn’t done anything to her, but he must have indirectly hurt her from... before. This is somehow his fault.

“Ms. Goldstein, I—”

“Darling!”

Percival is interrupted again, and he turns his head to see a portly man with an adoring grin stepping out of the back.

It’s Jacob. Jacob Kowalski, the No-Maj. The _obliviated_ No-Maj. And when they see each other, he turns pale as well, as if he knows Percival, his face.

“Oh,” he exclaims weakly.

There’s a tug at his sleeve and he whirls around. Queenie is looking up at him, eyes wet with tears.

“Mr. Graves, please, I can explain,” she pleads softly but desperately.

The door opens again.

“Queenie, I know you’re excited to see him but it’s rude to run off ahead like that—”

Both of them turn to see the other Goldstein sister step into the store, followed by Newt. And even they pale at the sight of him. If Percival hadn’t been feeling so thoroughly off-kilter from all of this, he would be amused by their reactions.

“D-director,” Goldstein starts, then with a determined shake of the head, she marches towards them and drags her younger sister behind her protectively. “It’s not their fault. I will take full responsibility for this.”

Percival stares incredulously at her, then at her sister, then Jacob, and finally Newt. Everything is clicking into place now. How since Newt’s arrival with his book and creatures, Goldstein’s generous gifts of pastry had dwindled, and every time he had tried to ask someone about the bakery so he could personally visit (because he hadn’t been brave enough to venture beyond the park on his own until today), he would be diverted one way or another. How every time he had thought he smelled them from his office, all he would find was an empty box on one of their desks. That means all his other aurors are in on this as well, for Merlin’s sake.

And Newt’s friendliness—his touches—had only been a distraction from it all. What an utter _fool_ they have made of him.

“This,” he grits out as calmly as he can manage, but Goldstein still flinches. “What is _this_ , Goldstein?”

“It’s—”

“ _This_ is a security breach, breaking of the law.”

“I’m aware of that, sir—”

“Then what is this fraternization I am currently witnessing?” Percival cuts her off harshly. “You’ve just helped save our kind from exposure but then you turn around and betray us—”

“Percival!”

Newt storms forward, places himself between Percival and the women. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed tight.

“Tina is doing nothing of the sort,” he says quietly, firmly. “You know she isn’t. She would never betray you or MACUSA like that.”

Hearing Newt’s defense of her only makes him angrier.

“You are also an accomplice, Mr. Scamander,” Percival spits out, and he takes vicious pleasure in seeing the man flinch.

But Newt doesn’t back down.

“He’s my friend, Mr. Graves,” Newt shoots back, standing taller than usual. “He risked his life to save my creatures when I was about to lose them to a dark wizard and I will continue to be his friend because he is a good, loyal man who will take our secret to his grave.”

Percival falters, stung by the mention of Grindelwald. That's his fault, too, isn’t it, that Newt had almost lost his creatures.

“Mr. Graves,” Goldstein speaks up as she steps up beside Newt, “Mr. Kowalski is my sister’s mate and they are happy together. Even after he was obliviated he remembered her, remembered us. They are truly meant for each other and even if I will be punished, I will protect them. I cannot let you harm them.”

And that stings even more. Yes, he is angry, a little hurt by the secrecy, but their explanations are understandable and he would be the last one to tear mates apart. To hear that they think him capable of such cruelty and injustice...

He had thought... he had thought he was better. All this time, he had tried so hard to be the Director his aurors deserved while battling his demons, and for the first time in all his employment at MACUSA, these last couple months, he had felt like they were comrades, even tentatively friends, rather than just superior and subordinate.

But all this time, they had been stepping on eggshells around him, watching and waiting for him to be like Grindelwald.

The silence suffocates him.

“Oh, honey...” That’s the younger Goldstein, and Percival’s eyes are reflexively drawn to the sound.

She’s crying, something like sympathy in her eyes as she looks at him.

Percival inwardly curses and slams his shields up, immediately cutting her off from any more of his thoughts; he has forgotten that she is a Legilimens. He drags in a shuddering breath and turns away, ashamed by the vulnerability he has unintentionally revealed. He realises his hands are shaking as well and tucks them in his coat pockets.

“Percival...” Newt calls, and something must show on his face because the man’s expression falls, causes him to reach out.

Percival jerks away, steps back and towards the exit. A numbness fills him, and it’s a good thing because to feel anything right now is stupidity on his part.

“Do as you will,” he says indifferently, “and make certain I hear nothing more of this. I never came here today, I do not know of its existence.”

He pulls out his wand, steadfastly ignores the surprised cries and aborted movements of the others and obliviates the cashier who had been watching everything with frightened eyes. He then turns around and walks out with as much dignity as he can manage, also ignoring whoever is calling out to him and rushes to the nearest apparition point as soon as he’s out of sight.

 

 

In the privacy of his home, Percival climbs the stairs to his bedroom, and enters.

Everything is exactly as he remembers from the last time he had set foot in here, and he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. If it had been messy, he might have been able to occupy himself with cleaning and reorganising. Though he inhales deeply, there is no lingering scent of Grindelwald as he had feared.

Percival goes to his desk in the far corner, sits down, and finds a sheet of parchment. He waits until the shaking is minimal before writing a reply to his mother, telling her that everything is well, that he is safe and fine, and maybe he will come for a visit soon. Once the letter is sent off, he has nothing left to do except go to work.

He isn’t a cruel man, so he won’t say or do anything. His aurors had acted in the best interest of their comrade, and she in turn for her sister’s love. It’s rare that an omega mates for true love instead of having it arranged, and Percival can appreciate the existence of such a relationship.

His own near-mating had been disastrous, after all.

When he can’t delay any longer, Percival freshens himself up and looks in the mirror. He sees a tired, worn man.

He only needs to act like everything is normal, like he hasn’t been hit over the head with the unveiling of a huge secret this morning.

If Grindelwald can be Percival Graves, then surely Percival Graves can be Percival Graves, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useless trivia: I've actually been consistently a few chapters ahead of the ones being posted and only really go back to do a final proof-reading before posting.
> 
> This chapter actually happened as a result of your lovely comments. It helped me realise that perhaps I rushed the aftermath of the fallout and after revising it, I ended up splitting the original into two separate chapters.
> 
> SO as a thank you and also apology for hurting everyone, I will be posting up both. Thanks for all your support!

Percival doesn’t fare well in the face of his oblivious aurors. He cannot bear to tell them with his own words that he feels betrayed and hurt because he should never have felt those things in the first place. There should never have been a secret they all contributed to keeping and he should never have trusted their intentions in approaching him. He is only their superior and there should have been no need for personal interactions. As long as he did his job and they did theirs, everything should have been _fine_.

Nothing changes yet everything does.

He cannot find it in himself to respond favourably to their continued acts of false kindness, and though he tries, they soon realise that their repeated attempts at friendliness and multiple invitations no longer wear him down enough to accept but anger him instead. He’s losing his professionalism and he doesn’t know who he blames more: his aurors or himself. Because surely, he should be rational enough to be objective and impersonal, not letting unnecessary emotions get in the way.

He doesn’t know why he can’t and that just makes everything worse.

He avoids Goldstein and Newt. Not so obvious to be noticeable to outsiders, because they still meet him individually for reports and to take him on breaks respectively, but there is none of the familiarity and all the tension. He had tried so hard to be normal with them, not be an affected party, but he would be okay one minute and then reliving the sting of betrayal the next, and it would be all he can do not to slam his fist on the desk as he listens to Goldstein stutter through a report.

Goldstein tries to offer him a pastry from the-place-he-doesn't-know-about after the whole debacle, as a gesture of peace or apology or something else, and Percival almost gets sick at the sight of it. But he manages to accept it calmly and ask that she never do this again.

She looks stricken at that, guilt washing over her features, but Percival can do nothing about it because he wants to protect himself this time.

She leaves his office with a quiet, “Yes, sir,” and after a few moments of staring down at the harmless item on his desk, he vanishes it quietly.

Newt tends to look lost. He smiles in the presence of others, and continues to be the department’s sweetheart. But sometimes, Percival catches him staring with sad eyes and he will make aborted gestures with his hands as if he wants to reach out to Percival but thinks better of it.

Percival has never been happier with his decision of telling Newt to stop because if the man had tried to touch him right now, he might’ve acted irrationally and that is no longer acceptable at this point.

A few days after that wretched incident, Newt comes into his office and asks if he’s alright, quietly and hesitantly, because Percival had failed to properly hide his misery after a bad night, and he replies coolly, “I am fine, Newt; my well-being is none of your concern.”

Newt doesn’t say anything else, and Percival doesn’t know what face he’s making because he is reading reports and signing papers, so he only hears footsteps and then the door clicking closed. After Newt leaves, Percival buries his head in his shaking hands, because it hurts knowing that the man noticed his state of weariness, that he cared enough to ask. Percival had never thought it could hurt because someone _cares_.

Pickett, who had been a frequent visitor because of his owner, is also scarce from the office. Percival misses him a bit, but he’d rather not see the bowtruckle if it means he won’t have to see Newt any more than necessary.

And then in a week, something changes.

One day, he catches his aurors sitting together in the lunch room, Goldstein and Newt included, and Percival notes with some satisfaction that he doesn’t feel left out. But something is strange because for the number of people who are gathered, it’s unusually quiet. No one is smiling or laughing, only murmuring and shaking heads.

He ignores them as he walks by towards the food, but all at once, they look up and freeze when they see him.

His stomach drops. They _know_.

He can see it in their eyes, the guilt that’s heavy in them, the remorse on their faces. He also sees a tearful Goldstein who is trying to say something, and Newt who is the only one who isn’t looking his way. They must have told the others, unable to bear the weight of their own guilt.

Cold anger washes over him, because he know they’re only sorry they got caught. It has nothing to do with him.

He turns around and walks out, pretending he can’t feel their gazes on his back.

 

 

It turns out that Percival does not fare well in the face of guilty aurors, either.

At least before, there had been some semblance of professionalism from them as they turned their attention from him and focused on their work.

Now, they stare at him too much or won't look at him at all, and their stances as they stand in front of him are hunched, like they are expecting a blow and willing to accept the punishment. It is unbelievably undignified and he barks at them to stand straight with shoulders back, heads held high and eyes meeting his. That he is telling them such basic things because they have forgotten out of misplaced guilt is incredibly ridiculous.

It makes him want to scream, so he does.

He yells at them, reminding them that they are aurors who need to be sharp, brave and vigilant, that citizens rely on them to catch the criminals and protect the innocent, keep the city safe. That they are behaving like morons who can’t get their acts together and if they prefer to continue in this manner, he would be glad to send them to different departments and hire new ones.

His voice echoes throughout the room, leaving a silence heavy with shame. Then as one, they all respond with a loud, “Yes, sir!”

This isn't forgiveness. This is not a path to their redemption, and he couldn’t care less if they continue to wallow in their guilt after this as long as they do their damn jobs properly.

This is his department, the one in which he has grown as an auror, one he considers more than simply a workplace, his very pride. Percival refuses to watch it come to ruin because of him when he can do something about it. And if what it takes is yelling at idiots and hardening his heart, then so be it.

The department runs efficiently after that under his leadership and their success rate at closing cases is the highest ever, yet Percival feels miserable.

But it’ll get better one day. It has to.

 

 

“You don’t look so well, Percival.”

“This isn’t a social visit, Madam President.”

“It can damn well be a social visit if I want it to be.”

Percival scowls at his friend.

“Don’t give me that,” Seraphina sighs, somehow still appearing dignified as she rolls her eyes, “I’m not one of your subordinates that you can scare off with a look.”

“This is me expressing my annoyance at your unnecessary concern,” Percival shoots back.

They’re in the President’s office sitting across her desk from one another, because Percival had come to report on updates within his department and Seraphina had listened to the whole thing before gesturing at him to take a seat before starting all this. Two cups of coffee float in the air to the side, having just been brewed.

“Concern for a friend is never unnecessary, Percival.”

She's being too reasonable.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me? You seem to have a lot on your mind,” she continues as she passes over a cup.

Percival takes it, drinks. “There’s nothing wrong. Everything is running smoothly and no one is hurt.” Not physically, at least.

“Merlin, that stubbornness is going to get you killed someday.”

He objects to that. “I’m _fine_ , Sera. I just... need time,” he finishes lamely. Then after a short internal debate, he admits, “I’ve been rather tired, lately.”

He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that his problem is one that he cannot share with the President. He feels bad, having to do to his friend the very same thing that had landed him and his aurors in this situation in the first place. Should she find out that he is covering for a severe law-breaking by his very own aurors, she would have to investigate and question his loyalties because of her position, and their friendship would be tested. He will never put that on her shoulders.

Seraphina drinks from her own cup before speaking. “You’ve been back for a year now, Percival, and you’ve made remarkable recovery and pushed yourself hard. But there’s only so much you can do by yourself. You’ve hit a point where you need someone to help you, to talk with, at least.

“If you won’t talk to me—and I won’t take it personally since I know you—then someone else. Anyone else. Go visit your family if that’s an option; I will allow all the time you need.”

And at the end, she says, “I just want you to be happy; you deserve it.”

Well, they’ll have to disagree on that, but Percival appreciates her sentiment nonetheless.

“I will think about it.”

This time it’s Seraphina who scowls. “You’re only saying that to get me off your back.”

Percival hides a reluctant smile behind another sip.

“Perhaps. But perhaps I will also think about it.”

“See that you do, Mr. Graves,” she sighs. “That is all I ask.”

 

 

Long after Percival had expressed his displeasure for Newt’s concern of him, the idiotic man shows up again in his office one afternoon, a few days after Percival had set his aurors straight. He doesn’t say anything other than muttering something about how he had bought too much food and drops a paper bag on his desk before rushing out. Percival’s first thought is to take it back to Newt and throw it at his head, but then he takes a deep breath and calms himself, decides it’s much better to give it to Ms. Kett instead.

He nearly regrets it when his stomach growls half an hour later.

But then it keeps happening. Newt would catch him somehow, if not in his office then somewhere else, and pass off a paper bag of food to him, always with the same excuse of having bought too much. It doesn’t happen often enough for Percival to call him out on his unwanted meddling without sounding petty and ungrateful.

Percival can’t give or throw it away like he had wanted to at first because he would somehow be in need of sustenance every time it happened so why waste it? And it makes him reluctantly curious as to how much Newt could be watching him to notice when he’s hungry and bring him food at just the right time before Percival can feed himself.

But ultimately, it doesn’t help much. Although he has been trying his best, the emptiness inside slips through the cracks and the team notices considerable strain and tension in some of their interactions with him. He tells them it’s because he’s a little tired and then silences them with a glare if there is even the slightest indication that they might feel sorry for him.

Weeks go by, and the next thing Percival knows is that the dynamics of his department have reverted back to pre-Grindewald days, when he had kept his distance from his aurors and they had respected (feared) him.

Percival had asked this of them before, to act normally and behave professionally. He doesn’t know why he isn’t happy with it, and feels his hardened heart slowly cracking. So far, nothing he has asked for is resulting in any sort of satisfaction and he wonders where he went wrong, when he stopped knowing how to make good decisions.

The nightmares that had been dwindling come back, but instead of pushing through while lacking sleep, he takes to stealing short naps in his office so no one checks on him. He forces himself to eat because he doesn’t want Newt to think he needs to keep bringing him food.

Percival feels like he's back at square one, right at the beginning of his recovery, and he doesn't know what to do. Well, that isn’t true; he knows. He’s aware that he’s lonely. He’s no less angry than before, but ironically, it’s at his own expense and it tires him out. Having once tasted what it was like to have his aurors be more than his subordinates, to have someone like Newt bring him out of his work from time to time and give him rest, he almost wishes he had never known such things. Now, he has no one to rely on. Not even himself.

And just when he thinks he might need that vacation or eventually step down, help comes from the most unexpected source.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter of a two-chapter update! Please be sure to read the previous one before this :)
> 
> Also, _______-ex-machina!

“Director,” Ms. Kett calls right before he walks into his office one day, “there is a letter from the Ministry for you. And the President says to expect a visitor soon.”

Percival takes the sealed letter and thanks her, and asks that she keep visitors away for the next half hour unless it’s the President’s guest. He wonders what the Ministry could want. Could they possibly have come to a decision about Grindelwald? The trials for the dark wizard have been long and arduous as they discussed what to do with him in light of all his crimes that were still being listed.

He locks the door and sits at his desk, then spends a few minutes going through what needs to be done for the day. He opens the letter once that’s finished.

 _‘Dear Mr. Graves,’_ the letter starts, and Percival blinks at the familiar writing.

_‘I apologise for writing to you all of a sudden. I understand that we have never engaged outside of the international gatherings or other business-related occasions, certainly never personally since serving together in the war._

_First of all, I send my sympathies regarding what happened to you. I commend you for your sacrifice and what you continue to do for your country. I knew when we were fellow soldiers that you were a great man.’_

Percival stops there, breathes while tampering down the unbidden emotion that arises from the kind words of practically a stranger. He has not seen the man in years, and as mentioned in the letter has no personal connection to speak of. Most communications with his Ministry of Magic counterpart has been through letters about official matters only.

That such a person would write to him about a possibly unofficial matter piques his interest. It’s certainly a reprieve from what he has to think about, lately.

_‘As you know, Newton Scamander is my younger brother and he has been serving in your department under you for some time now. He has not written to me in over two months and I’ve decided to check on him to see for myself how he is doing. He will likely raise a fuss if he knows I’m there to visit him, so I am also travelling to meet with you to discuss MACUSA's future plans for magical security._

_Out of respect to you, the President suggested I send this letter as a forewarning and by the time it arrives, I should be close behind._

_Best regards,_

_Theseus Scamander_

_Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’_

Percival is rather disconcerted by the end. He is reluctant to deal with an apparently overprotective brother on top of the mess that is his working relationship with his subordinates. Plus, it’s another Scamander. The one already here is one too many, thank you.

He sighs, closes his eyes and rubs at his temple. It’s starting out to be a fantastic day and—oh. The visitor.

It can’t be...

A loud knock on his door startles him and he immediately reaches for his wand, readies it. It takes a minute too long for him to relax and put it away, and take a deep breath. He now hears a commotion outside the doors.

“Come in,” he calls warily and steps out from behind his desk.

The door bursts open and Theseus Scamander enters, tall, broad form and handsome face cutting an imposing figure. The alpha strides in confidently and behind him, by the doorway, Newt stands gaping at his brother. That would explain the commotion.

Newt’s eyes meet his briefly and become sad, like every other time he has looked at Percival, before the man turns away and closes the door behind him.

“Graves!” Scamander greets, closing the distance quickly. “I’m glad to see you are doing well.”

He clasps Percival’s shoulder and shakes his hand in an overly-friendly manner. This is... different.

“It’s good to see you as well,” Percival returns, and carefully extracts himself from the contact. Thankfully, Scamander doesn’t notice or doesn’t take offense. “Please, have a seat.”

The man settles into the visitor's chair as Percival takes his seat as well. He doesn’t have any tea that the British enjoy so he offers coffee instead, but his guest declines.

“Have you rested at all after your journey? You must be tired if you’ve indeed directly followed your letter of warning,” Percival says dryly.

Scamander chuckles, and for a split second Percival sees the resemblance between him and Newt; the way the eyes crinkle and how the whole face brightens in expressing the emotion.

“I apologise for the abruptness of this visit, Director. I was worried and made an impulsive decision on my part,” Scamander explains.

“Understandable, since he’s your family,” Percival accepts. “Though I would have liked the warning a little more in advance.”

“Yes, that was rather thoughtless of me; again, my apologies,” Scamander admits, surprising Percival. “I will be around for some days at least to consult with you what I mentioned in the letter. It will also be enough time for me to see how my brother is doing and make sure he’s not causing you any trouble.”

Percival nods in acknowledgement. “He’s no trouble, really.” Not for the department, exactly, but for Percival, that’s a completely different matter. “If I’m being honest, he has actually been very helpful. Our aurors have learned a lot from him, and it shows that it pays to be somewhat knowledgeable about the creatures he studies.”

Scamander smiles fondly at hearing that, and there is pride in his voice when he says, “Well then, it seems like he’s doing his job properly.”

For some reason, Percival is relieved to hear that Scamander approves of his brother’s area of expertise.

“I’m assuming Newt did not expect you at all,” Percival notes, remembering earlier.

“I did warn that boy as well, but I suppose he hasn’t read his letter yet,” Scamander shrugs. “He tends to get caught up in things, is distracted easily. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he received the letter last week or last month.”

The fond yet exasperated way Scamander talks about his brother makes Percival smile a little and instead of the War Hero or Head Auror of DMLE, he sees a glimpse of the person behind the titles. He is clearly an alpha who isn’t afraid to be seen caring for those who are important to him. Was it an influence of Newt's, he wonders, or did Scamander teach his brother? Either way, he thinks as his smile twists bitterly, Newt is astonishingly adept at caring.

“But enough about me,” Scamander’s voice draws him out of his thoughts. “How are you, Graves?”

The question is one that Percival has avoided from his family, Seraphina, and himself. He has become miserable at his beloved work, he can’t trust his aurors and can barely act civilised towards them, and he doesn’t find rest at home. But he doesn’t dwell on those thoughts because not thinking about his situation is the last seam holding him together. He’s supposed to be fine.

Yet for some reason, right this moment, he wants to say something truthful in response. Is it because Scamander is a stranger? An objective third party who is unaware of the current complications of Percival’s life?

‘I’m fine,’ he wants to say, but what comes out instead is, “Could be better.”

And Percival waits for something to happen, for the sky to fall after such an admission, but nothing happens. His breath comes out in a shudder.

Scamander, who has been watching him carefully, smiles wryly. “We all have one of those days; I imagine you’re no exception.”

Right then, something tight releases inside Percival, part of a fear of appearing less than perfect, less than strong. He appreciates this man’s tact and how he acknowledged his troubles but didn’t shame him for it.

He smiles back, just as wry. “I suppose not.”

“Well, if you aren’t busy, could you show me around the building? Perhaps we could talk more,” Scamander suggests. “I would ask Newt but he’s unreliable with this sort of thing.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure to show you our majestic headquarters,” Percival replies. He doesn’t mind showing off a little.

“Hah! Nowhere near as great as ours, I bet.”

Percival raises a brow, appearing sceptical. “I don’t know how you manage anything great on that small piece of land.”

“Did you just insult my country, Graves?” Scamander growls, but his eyes are playful.

“I would never. Only making an observation, Scamander.”

It’s refreshing, this light-hearted banter, a welcome reprieve from the strained interactions he deals with on a daily basis. It’s similar to what he had before with his aurors, and Percival hasn’t realised until now how much he missed it.

“Shall we get started, then?” Percival offers, already mentally organising which cases will need to be prioritized after this delay.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to find Newt right outside, pacing back and forth across width of the hallway, and Ms. Kett glancing at him nervously. Newt stops as soon as he hears them and watches as they come out of the office. He seems relieved to see Percival, but then his gaze moves to his brother behind him and his eyes narrow in a frown.

“Hello again, Theseus. I believe you didn’t answer me earlier,” Newt says, crossing his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“If you had read my letter, little brother, you would know why,” Scamander replies teasingly. “I’m here to discuss official matters with the Director here,” and then the man behind him grasps Percival’s shoulder like he had done earlier.

Percival tenses reflexively before forcing himself to relax. He’s noticing another similarity between the Scamander brothers: they’re both quite tactile beings, it seems.

Newt frowns harder; he must be unhappy about Percival taking up his brother’s time, and he feels a guilty twinge in his chest.

An awkward silence falls upon them, and Percival is about to suggest that the brothers go on that tour together instead but then Scamander lunges forward into Newt, crushing the man into a hug and causing him to yelp.

“I missed you, brother,” Scamander says warmly, and Newt’s frown melts into an exasperated smile as he returns the hug.

“Missed you, too, ‘Seus.”

The reunion between the brothers is intimate, and Percival feels like an intruder witnessing this. He turns to Ms. Kett who shrugs helplessly. Nothing to do but wait it out, then.

In the meantime, he categorizes differences and similarities between the two. Both of them are practically the same height, with Scamander being slightly taller. Their hair colour is the same, but where Scamander’s is short and neatly trimmed, Newt’s is wild, constantly looking windswept. Newt also has more freckles, sweeter eyes as opposed to Scamander’s beard and sharp gaze.

“—alright with you, Graves?”

Percival realises Scamander is addressing him and he sees both brothers watching, having finished their conversation. He barely suppresses the flush threatening to climb his neck.

“Pardon me, could you repeat that? I was thinking about something.”

“I thought Newt could join us on the tour since he didn’t get one himself—” then Scamander pauses.

“But he did,” Percival says, confused, “we did show him around when he started working here.”

“Oh, but not personally by you!” Scamander points out. “And that is definitely something worth experiencing. Plus, he missed me and would like to spend more time together, right Newt?”

He nudges Newt who has been quiet so far, and the man starts visibly when all attention turns to him. He turns slightly pink.

"Y-yes, of course. That is, if Percival doesn't mind...”

Newt hunches even more as he looks at Percival, peering up uncertainly at him through his lashes.

And Percival’s knee-jerk reaction is to refuse. He has just gotten his break from what would have been the same, tiring work day full of pretending that nothing was wrong. But a man stronger than Percival would have to deny an omega’s wish to be with his familial alpha whom he hasn’t seen in a long time, even if it’s at the expense of his own heart and sanity.

"That's fine with me," Percival sighs and ignores how Newt brightens up. Then to Ms. Kett, “Please clear my schedule for the morning and inform anyone who asks that I am on diplomatic business. If it’s an emergency, they know how to reach me.”

“Yes, sir,” she affirms.

“Follow me, then, gentlemen.”

 

 

With Scamander between them, Percival can almost pretend that things are back to normal. He and Newt exchange some words without guilt, without hurt, and it warms his heart temporarily.

The tour itself is nothing special. Percival gets to witness brotherly antics, slightly surprised when Scamander roughhouses Newt frequently and Newt takes it quite well. It adds to how unconventional the pair are, on top of constantly competing against one another with Percival as the battleground.

If he talks long enough with Scamander, Newt will ask a question about some feature of the building that Percival answers patiently even though he has already explained it. And Newt must have forgotten his agreement to remain outside of Percival’s personal space, because when Scamander taps his shoulder or holds his arm to lead him somewhere (even though Percival is supposed to be the guide), Newt does the same to hold him back.

It makes Percival tense and Newt’s face flood with guilt, but Percival doesn’t shrug him off and later, he tells himself that it’s because he had been too focused on being a good guide as well as trying not to upset the younger brother of an important government official.

At one point, the elastic—the one given to him by Goldstein—snaps and lets loose his hair. Scamander picks up a quill off of the desk that they’re walking by and transfigures it into another band. When he jokingly offers to do the honours, Newt honest-to-Morgana _growls_ at his brother and Percival has never heard such a sound from the omega before. It sends a slight chill down his spine.

The weird thing is, it seems to upset Newt more than anyone else.

Scamander just laughs and takes it all in stride.

So yes, nothing special but extremely tiring. By the end of it, he's ready to kick both brothers out of the building to continue their reunion elsewhere and not involve Percival, thank you very much.

But then Scamander invites him out for drinks after his work is done, saying it’s his treat to repay Percival’s hospitality, and he agrees because he could definitely use one after the day he has had. Newt somehow hears about it and asks to join as well and Percival just gives up after that.

 

 

If Percival didn’t know any better, he would say that Newt is sulking.

He had kept his drinking to a minimum because he will never be drunk again if he can help it but a little light-headedness feels good.

Scamander—now Theseus (“We are drinking together in an informal setting. Surely that warrants some informality between us?”), having passed the inebriated stage three drinks ago, has fallen asleep leaning on Percival. He endures it for the sake of blackmailing the man for future favours. Once again, he proves that he is not a kind person.

Newt is the only one of them who is completely sober, having sipped on water and non-alcoholic drinks.

“What is it, Newt?” Percival sighs.

“It’s nothing,” is the curt reply.

“Not another secret, is it?” Percival asks, perhaps a little spitefully because the alcohol has loosened his tongue, then immediately regrets it.

Newt's face crumbles, and Percival is overcome with shame. He isn’t a petty man, but apparently, this is a grudge he cannot let go of. He’s horrified by his own maliciousness.

“That was uncalled for, I’m so—”

“I’m sorry,” Newt blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry. That time wasn’t—we hadn’t meant to keep it a secret to hurt you or, or to betray you.”

And it's like a dam has broken because Newt apologises again and again.

“We thought it would be better if you didn’t know for everyone’s sake. Th-that way you wouldn’t have to be burdened by having to decide between your morals as the Director and your team. Nobody meant any harm, honest. They just wanted to help Tina protect Queenie and help you avoid such a heavy responsibility. They all like you so much, Percival, and in hindsight, it was the wrong thing to do, to keep it from you. They should have trusted you, should have known that you would do the right thing because you’re a good man. And I... yes, I was an accomplice. I’m sorry.”

There is a suspiciously wet sniffle, but Newt’s head is bowed and he goes on.

“I always hoped that one day I would be able to introduce you to Jacob because you both are important to me and surely you would get along wonderfully, but I realised that what we did and hoped for had never been our choice to make. W-well, I mean, it was, technically. As in there was a choice and we did make it, I guess. But you were also involved but had been left out, and that was wrong.

“’A-and Tina didn’t mean to imply that you are cold-hearted or would willingly hurt anyone. She was scared and in shock and her emotions got the better of her but she truly regrets having said those words and betraying your trust. She’s really, truly grateful for what you’ve done for her and Queenie. She would tell you herself if you’d be willing to give her the opportunity.

With each spilled word (and Merlin, there had been many words; he had never heard Newt talk so much all at once except about his creatures) Percival's heart thaws little by little, until he thinks he can feel something again. All this time, he had thought they hated him, pretended in his presence and resented behind his back. They had been hiding for the exact same reason he will not confide in Seraphina, and it’s strange to hear how they are alike in this way. But something still bothers him.

“But if they can’t trust me as their Director,” he says slowly, because it hurts to say it, to admit it, “then there is no reason for me to remain as one. I should—”

“No!” Newt exclaims, head snapping up, eyes wet. “No, that’s not the case. Not anymore. They know what you did, and your actions proved a thousand—no, a million times over that you are worthy of their trust and loyalty to the end.”

Newt’s hand reaches out but stops just shy of Percival’s own hand which is shaking on the table. Then his mouth firms in determination and he takes it, holds it tight.

“We know none of us have a right to ask but we ask for another chance. You don’t have to forgive us, not at all, but we want to show you we’re willing to do whatever it takes to earn it, even if it never happens. You’re too good, utterly precious, and I can’t let you go.”

Percival can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Warmth spreads from where Newt is holding his hand, and those last words he said... he gets the feeling Newt means something else. But he’s tired and emotionally wrought at the moment, and he sighs shakily. He squeezes back.

Newt smiles, and it's like watching the storm clouds making way for the sun.

Theseus snorts suddenly and Percival hastily takes his hand back, tucks it under the table along with the other and clasps them together. After making sure the man is still asleep, he looks up at Newt again. He’s blushing, and Percival imagines his own face to be in a similar state.

When Newt smiles sheepishly, his heart skips a beat.

Oh. Oh no.

Merlin help him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Bonus:**

Theseus releases him from the hug and winds an arm around his shoulders.

“So,” his brother drawls. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

Newt stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, little brother. He’s the reason you haven’t been writing because you are clearly sulking over him right now.”

Sometimes Newt regrets being close with his brother and this is one of those times. Theseus knows him too well.

“I didn’t know your type was tall, dark, handsome and _alpha_ ,” Theseus says, raising a brow pointedly.

They both glance over theirs shoulders to look at Percival, who is sharing a look with his secretary. He is indeed very handsome, dressed smartly in his suit as always, sleeves yet to be rolled up, trousers accentuating his legs—and Newt tears his eyes away quickly before he gets caught staring.

“He’s not—” Newt starts, then bites his lip. That isn’t his secret to tell.

“Not tall?” Theseus finishes teasingly. “That’s true; he’s a little short for an alpha. Don’t worry, though, I’m not judging your preferences because I’m awesome like that.”

Newt kind of wants to punch him.

“Anyway, why don’t you join us? He’s going to show me around the place so I can give you an excuse to spend time with him.”

But that only makes Newt sigh dejectedly. “He isn’t happy with me right now, ‘Seus. I have no right to be near him.”

Both of Theseus’s brows climb high on his forehead. “What in Merlin’s name did you do? Set his office on fire? Let your niffler loose? Piss in his coffee? You know, these Americans are very serious about their coffee.”

“Shut _up_ , ‘Seus!” Newt hisses, then sighs again, feels a sting in the back of his eyes. “If only...”

"Well, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Nobody ever hates you for too long.”

“Thank you,” he mutters sarcastically.

“Leave it to me. The man just needs a little time and you just need to grovel.”

“Wait, Theseus, don’t—” but Theseus lets go and turns fully towards Percival, who is watching them.

“Hey, Graves!” he calls.

Newt hates his brother sometimes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it seems that Percival is getting a lot of love, haha. Thank you!! You guys are so awesome and lovely. I thought I'd take the time to explain in light of recent chapters what's been going on since we only got to see the whole incident from Percival's perspective. Please find the wall of text at the end of the chapter :)

It takes a little while longer after that-day-he- _did_ - _not_ -realise-anything for his aurors to worm themselves back into Percival’s heart and for them to be even remotely comfortable around each other, but Percival gives them a chance and they take it like that's all they ever wanted. They had already stopped bringing pastries to the workplace long ago out of respect for his decision and although Percival occasionally misses the taste of it, he knows it’s for the best that he completely ignores the bakery’s existence for his own peace of mind.

Percival would be lying if he says he isn’t scared to open up again. He has gone through more emotional turmoil and heartbreak in the past year than he has in all of his years working at MACUSA put together. And funny enough, it coincides with Newt’s recent presence in his life.

He knows that in order to have people, have someone, he needs to give himself as well. And while at this stage, he can’t say for certain if it’s worth it, but he’s willing to hope a little and try again. People make mistakes, he should know, but when given the opportunity, decent ones will work to mend it.

And oh, how they work.

In the next week, his aurors come and go one-by-one like they somehow know Percival is willing to hear them out for once, Goldstein being the first with anxiety apparent on her face. He listens to her apology even though she keeps stopping like she’s expecting him to cut her off again, like all the other times he had done so because he had no room in his heart except for the anger that burned.

Fontaine is far more straightforward and charges through his words, just like the man himself. He apologises for having failed Percival when he should have been the best support for him as his Deputy Director, and that he is ready to do whatever is asked of him. Except dying.

Senior Auror O’Brien is a surprisingly sensitive one for all his famous pranks and antics within the department. Percival had suspected as much when seeing how despite being the loudest in voicing his opinions, he always sought Percival’s approval. The large man brings him a cup of his favourite brew and bumbles his way through an apology.

Senior Auror Mathews surprises him as well, because she is quiet and still when she offers her apology even though she is usually a headstrong woman who has no fear and is willing to show her strength.

Even the ungrateful ones in his department eventually come around to say they are sorry for their misdeeds.

It’s as he listens to their heartfelt apologies that he thinks they had always been willing to show this side of them and readily admit their mistakes, but Percival just hadn’t wished to see it.

But the words aren’t enough, he admits. By actions they caused him troubles so by action they will prove the sincerity of their words.

He doesn’t say anything in response to their apologies, only nods in acknowledgement before asking them to leave and return to their duties. They know it isn’t an act of forgiveness on his part, but they seem grateful anyway.

He doesn’t make it easy but he also notes their efforts. It doesn’t take long for them to start inviting him again to lunches, to ask for more duties, even voluntarily decide to help out other departments on their slow days. Wands Permit takes all the advantage of their offer and reorganise nearly all their documents in just a few days, and the three or so aurors who had been there confirm again that it’s the graveyard of all departments.

The other department heads come to thank Percival but also ask that the aurors don’t come by anymore because they clearly don’t know what they’re doing and are better off sticking with their auror duties. In reply, Percival tells them truthfully that he never assigned them to such tasks but will be sure to inform them. Then when he’s alone again, he laughs quietly to himself.

He doesn’t accept their invitations at first, either choosing to eat alone or with Theseus when he remembers to eat. They sit in a different area of the lunch room and Percival feels their gazes on him as he talks with his friend.

They try again the next day, and the day after, then again, and eventually Percival pretends to be angry just to see their frightened, guilty faces before smirking at them. It’s when they remain upset that he sighs and says, “Yes, lunch is fine.”

He thinks O'Brien may be wiping a tear away, but he’s probably seeing things.

Their lunch ends up being quiet. Although they had been the ones to invite him, all they do is look at him like they can’t believe he’s here. It makes Percival want to shift in his seat, but he glares at them instead and they all put their heads down and focus on eating. It’s quiet and uncomfortable, but it’s a start.

They also take after Newt’s example and start leaving things for him with Ms. Kett, from coffee to candies to a hairbrush of all things. When he asks who it’s from, Ms. Kett replies, “Oh, that’s from me, sir,” and he stares at her while she blinks innocently before shaking his head and heading inside.

Speaking of Newt...

Percival unconsciously avoids him, much to his own shame. He finds it much easier to let his aurors show their remorse as opposed to this one man. Newt is the one who had started all this in the first place; he had brought Percival out into the open, made him believe that he was capable of being liked, not just respected. That he was capable of being friends with his subordinates.

And Newt had been attentive towards him like no one else ever has since the beginning, and a part of him is afraid of how much the man knows him in only a fraction of the time he has spent with his aurors. It makes his heart beat a little faster and he isn’t ready to face what that means right now.

But Newt is frustratingly and infinitely patient, and he isn’t passive in his waiting, either. He apologises to the point that if Percival hears the word ‘sorry’ from him one more time, he might just ban the word from Newt’s vocabulary. He approaches Percival like he had that first time, with kind words and sincere smiles, respectfully retreating when Percival feels cornered and agitated for reasons he’d rather not think about. He feels ridiculous because he doesn’t know why he’s reacting like this towards his fellow omega who honestly is far less of a threat than his suitcase of beasts.

One afternoon, someone knocks on the door during a moment of rare peace, and when Percival tells them to enter, it’s Newt. He tenses as Newt walks in, and realises that they have never been alone together in his office since... Before. He also realises that Newt had not crossed this last line of his boundaries all this time until today. He had always made sure to talk to Percival and pass off the occasional lunch bag in public and open areas where there were other people. He had given Percival space while letting him know he’s still there.

But he comes in today, like he had somehow sensed that if he had tried to do so any earlier, Percival might have bolted or shut him down. Lately, Percival has been missing him, their breaks and meals together, the way Newt looks at him with admiration and respect despite knowing he’s an omega.

When Newt sees him, his tentative smile he falls and his eyes turn down.

“I’m sorry, Percival. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

It’s too straightforward a question that Percival doesn’t have an answer to so he just shakes his head.

“What can I do for you, Newt?”

Newt fidgets, hands behind his back, and doesn’t look up at him and it’s such a familiar sight that there’s a pang in his chest. After a few minutes of silence, during which Percival contemplates sending him away, the man glances up.

“I was wondering...” he starts, and then pauses, bites his lip. Then after another deep breath, “doyouwanttohavelunchwithme?”

Percival miraculously understands the jumble of words and he frowns.

“Newt...”

“It’s alright if you don’t want to,” Newt hastily interrupts. “It’s just. Theseus is away on some business today and he asked me to let you know and I—I just thought, I missed you and—”

The poor omega is turning crimson and it occurs to Percival that Newt must have considered this for a while, asking him to spend time together. He looks ready to be rejected but he had the courage to come here anyway. Percival doesn’t know what to do with him.

He's quiet for too long because Newt smiles again though it’s strained and doesn’t look like it belongs on his face.

“Sorry for bothering you.” There’s that word again and Percival grits his teeth. Newt steps forward and places a paper bag on his desk, saying, “I wanted to make sure you got something to eat, so I’ll leave you alone now.”

Percival’s chest tightens when he sees Newt turning his back to him and he knows this is a crucial moment. Newt has been working as hard as everyone else to mend what has been broken between them and he only wants to be Percival’s friend but his own uncertainty regarding these unknown feelings had caused him to be hard on the man.

“Wait,” Percival calls, then takes a breath to calm his nerves.

Newt stops, but he doesn’t turn around and Percival’s heart sinks at the sight.

He thinks this is it, because he knows if he lets Newt walk out the door, the man will respectfully maintain his distance and be a friend from afar. Percival is aware that there are only so many times he can push someone away before they might not come back. He can’t have that, and it wouldn’t be fair to Newt or himself because they haven’t yet let this go for a reason. Even if he’s afraid of what could happen, he can be as brave as Newt who had decided to walk in here today.

“I...” Percival starts, wondering what he should say. “I need your advice on a particular case, so you came just at the right time. We could talk while we eat.”

It doesn't sound like he's desperate, and it may sound rather impersonal, but Percival can’t be wholly honest just yet, and it seems to do the trick.

Newt turns around at last, and Percival’s eyes sting in sympathy as he sees Newt’s wet ones, but he’s smiling and it’s nothing like that poor imitation of one from earlier.

They don't end up talking about the case (yes, it had been a real case) all that much, just sit across the desk from one another and eat their respective sandwiches. But when Percival looks up, his eyes lock with Newt’s that are soft and fond, and it feels like a missing puzzle piece clicking into place.

 

 

Things get better. Much better.

Percival finds himself at ease with his aurors after another month, and they show no signs of stopping. He starts to believe that they might actually like him.

Goldstein actually bursts out crying in front of him when he eventually tells her that it’s okay and he wishes Queenie and Jacob well and he thanks Merlin that they are in his office instead of somewhere more public because it looks like he made her cry. Which he did, but that isn’t the point.

A couple hours after she leaves, Queenie Goldstein barges into his office, falls into his lap as she winds her arms around him and sobs into his shoulder. Percival recovers as quickly as he can and waves the door shut in Ms. Kett's bewildered face. Queenie, while tears are still dripping from her wide eyes, manages to say, “I'm so, so sorry, and thank you, Mr. Graves. Thank you so much, honey.” And she kisses him on the cheek before she leaves.

And Newt, as soon as he’s given permission, fits himself seamlessly back into Percival’s routines, interrupting him with food or coaxing him to take a break. And he draws close to Percival, a pat here, a touch there, as if he wants to do so instead of trying to distract him like Percival had thought before. As if the man can’t help being near him.

And with that, the last stone falls from Percival’s chest.

 

 

A rumour starts that both Goldstein sisters were seen leaving his office with red, swollen eyes the same day because he played the both of them like a fiddle and they were heartbroken by him. The rumour lasts a couple weeks.

Mercy Lewis.

Theseus, the bastard, laughs at him when he complains about it during lunch one day in the cafeteria. In the past few months (since Theseus had decided to visit every couple weeks for an indefinite time) he has spent with the man, Percival has grown close to him with such ease, he wonders how they had never become friends before now.

“They must be absolutely curious about your personal life, Percival,” he remarks after wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re the most eligible bachelor around these parts, I hear, so they want anything they can get with regards to your romantic interests.”

“I don’t have any,” Percival lies with a straight face. “And by the way, why are you still here? We finished our consultation days ago.”

“That eager to get rid of me, Graves? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up, Scamander, and get your ass back to work.”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Theseus drags him in by the shoulder and hooks an arm around his neck in a loose chokehold. He’s a large alpha and Percival has never been in such close proximity with one of his stature so he tenses nervously at first. Then he’s about to dig his own fingers into the man’s ribs when—

“Theseus! Let him go!”

Newt’s voice rings throughout the (fortunately) mostly empty room as he marches directly towards them with anger on his face. Percival’s mind blanks at the sight of him striding purposefully, coat billowing behind him, unexpectedly graceful and surprisingly powerful.

Percival is going delusional.

Theseus lets go just as Newt reaches them and with shocking strength he pulls Percival up from his seat and behind him.

“You can’t treat him like he’s one of your dumb alpha friends, ‘Seus,” Newt scolds.

“But Newt, he _is_ one of my dumb alpha friends,” Theseus says, blinking in confusion.

And for a second, Newt falters like he hadn’t been expecting that and gets as far as, “No, he’s not—” before Percival realises what Newt is basically implying and thinks fast.

“I resent that,” he speaks up and the brothers face him. “If anyone is the dumb one out of the two of us, it’s you, Theseus.”

“Hey—”

“Anyway, thank you for lunch. What Newt means is that I am his boss and therefore you should treat me with respect. And Newt?”

Newt flinches.

“We need to talk.”

 

 

“That was dangerous, Newt.”

“Yes, I know,” Newt mumbles, eyes shifting, thumbs twiddling, foot tapping, trying to melt into the sofa in his office. “I’m so sorry, I just saw him grab you and—”

He cuts himself off, turns faintly pink.

Percival sighs. “I’ve noticed you have somewhat of a strong protective streak when it comes to what you care about.”

Newt blushes harder, poor thing.

“It’s good to see that you do; creatures are alive thanks to you and you help keep Tina and the rest of my team safe and happy,” Percival continues gently. “But Theseus was only playing and there was no reason for you to react like that.”

Newt frowns, the redness receding. “But—”

“I’ve seen how you two play rough with each other from time to time and no one is ever harmed as a result. This is no different; I can handle a little playfulness. I’ve experienced much worse from those who have intentionally wanted to harm me and this is nothing like that.”

Even though Percival had said all that to be reassuring, Newt somehow seems agitated by the end. He straightens up, frown still present, and he meets Percival’s gaze directly. It still sends a jolt through Percival whenever he does that, but outwardly he remains composed.

“But you’re an omega,” he states bluntly, as if that explains anything.

It puts Percival’s back up, to hear it said aloud in a place where no one is supposed to know.

“First of all,” he says with forced calm, “don’t ever mention that in this building, even if we’re alone. Secondly: so what?”

Newt's features slacken, thrown off by his response. “It’s, it’s—” he splutters. “It’s _inappropriate_ , Percival! To be so, so _callous_ with you!”

Percival wants to throw something at this idiotic, kind man. “Yes,” he drawls, “perhaps, if they know I am an omega. But they don’t because I am posing as an alpha and it will remain that way until I resign or retire or die, whichever happens first. Understood?” He growls a little on the last word.

“And besides,” he cuts off Newt’s protest, “you are in no better position yourself, handling danger all the time.”

“They’re not dangerous,” comes the automatic and petulant response, and it makes it difficult for Percival to keep his face stern. “And that’s different,” Newt adds as an afterthought.

“How is it any different? Comes with the job, doesn’t it? Just like myself.”

And Newt can’t say anything more so he slumps back onto the sofa and honest-to-Morgana _pouts_. It should be illegal for pouting to suit a grown man so well, and Percival can’t help snorting in amusement. Tina must find it adorable.

The thought sobers him.

Newt is an omega with an intended alpha and not Percival’s to pursue. He has finally acknowledged that he likes Newt but that’s as far as it will get. Even if everyone assumes that he and Newt are an alpha-omega pair, Percival would never do that to his friends and he knows Newt will never be truly happy with him in a taboo relationship. He is still young and if he chooses to have a family, Percival will not be the one to deny him the choice that he himself had had ripped away.

Before his thoughts continue their dark path, he hears Newt call his name. He must have been too quiet.

“You’re free to go, Newt, as long as you remember what I have said,” and Percival makes a shooing motion.

Instead of moving towards the door, Newt approaches his desk. A moment of hesitation then he leans over and tucks some loose strands behind Percival’s ear.

Percival just stares blankly even though his chest flutters a little before he ruthlessly stamps it down.

“Will you have some free time this weekend? If you aren’t busy, I’d like to show you my suitcase. I did promise a while ago and I’m sorry so much time has passed. Better late than never, at least?”

Newt rushes through the words nervously, but relaxes when Percival nods his agreement.

“Great! I’m staying with Theseus right now at his hotel while he’s here so we should be safe there. Feel free to drop by any time.”

And with that said he briskly walks out, leaving Percival to watch his back as it disappears down the hall and around the corner.

Percival gestures the door shut and lays his head down, the surface cool on his warm cheek.

He’ll get over this soon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Bonus:**

Newt thinks he understands the phrase ‘seeing red’ when he witnesses what seems like his brother assaulting Percival. The next thing he knows is he’s demanding Theseus let him go and Percival looks shocked as he quickly goes to them and pulls the man away from his brother but he just needs him away from danger.

When Percival is deemed safe, he slowly comes back from his instincts and he’s a little horrified by his behaviour, like he’s a typical, overbearing alpha. But then Theseus opens his stupid mouth and dares to say that Percival is _dumb_.

“No, he’s not—” _he’s smart and brilliant and wonderful_ and pretty unhappy when he addresses the both of them.

Oh, he doesn't look it because Percival’s quite adept at hiding his true emotions, but Newt has observed him for a long time and he has tells. Newt actually wonders sometimes how the others don’t notice these things but it doesn’t seem to matter to Percival so Newt just keeps it to himself for now.

And when Percival turns to him and asks (demands, really) to talk, Newt knows he overstepped his boundaries again. Percival has expressed before how he does not want to be taken care of but Newt really can’t help himself sometimes. He just wants the man to be safe and happy and _his_ but Newt’s protectiveness isn’t all that appreciated when applied to the omega.

Percival says as much and calls Newt out on it and it’s honestly embarrassing to be scolded about the same thing over again because Newt’s proving that he’s failing to listen properly. But he really has to draw the line at Percival being okay with careless treatment of himself.

The man doesn’t listen, even says that it’s the same as when Newt is dealing with his creatures and Merlin, he can be so _frustrating_. Well, even if Percival is fine with it, Newt definitely isn’t and he’ll just have to show that the omega deserves careful and special treatment. Of course, he will have to be more subtle because being too obvious like he had been in the lunch room only upsets Percival.

At least Percival seems to be getting used to his touches now, and it makes Newt giddy and his alpha content.

This coming weekend, he’ll let Percival know, and then it will give him all the excuses to pamper him more than he has been doing up to this point. Newt can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percival was very hurt by Newt and his aurors, moreso because he was experiencing betrayal for the first time from someone he trusts. He took it badly and he didn't want anything to do with them for long weeks and he has been shutting down numerous attempts at apologies as a result. This doesn't show in the chapters because it's Percival's perspective and he opts to ignore them. He was so angry and continued to be angry, and it became toxic for him and his department. Newt and the aurors drowned in guilt, and since Percival wouldn't let them apologise or approach him, all they could do was watch from afar and try to respect his wishes by giving him time and space. But then eventually, Percival was feeling lonely and he unconsciously knew he pushed everyone away and drove himself into a corner but he didn't know how to get rid of his anger and everyone else didn't know what to do at this point. So BASICALLY they hurt each other into a stalemate.
> 
> Hence, Theseus-ex-machina. Theseus the outsider, Theseus the objective third-party, Theseus the brother who gave Newt an excuse to be able to talk to Percival finally and explain their intentions and admit their wrongs.
> 
> The bakery thing started because as soon as Newt came back, Tina who had been expecting only a short visit finds out that the guy is going to work with them and with the promotion of his book, she knew that sooner or later, her smart boss would make the connection between Newt's creatures and the pastry shapes and so she acted out of panic to hide it away. It wasn't the smartest move on her part and she was guilty as hell when Mr. Graves would look disappointed sometimes by her lack of pastries and super guilty when she accidentally saw him looking into an empty pastry box on an auror's desk. And then by that point, she thought it too late to confess and voila.
> 
> Newt just came out to have a good time and seduce him a Percival but Tina asked him first and he needed to help his friend first so... again, voila.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dears. I thank you for sticking with me through the difficult parts. Please enjoy the ride of seduction and fluff for the next few chapters :) And man, I don't know how you writers do it, keeping up with more than 2-3 characters. I don't know why I did this to myself and made up so many characters like wtf is wrong with me
> 
> Also, your comments are such a delight! I honestly just wanted to have a fun time writing whatever I wanted and you all are so wonderful.
> 
> Betcha didn't see this coming!

Eleanor brings up the topic when he's meeting her for his monthly checkup and suppressant refill on the Friday before the much feared and anticipated weekend. After a year and some months, between Seraphina, Newt, and his aurors, Percival has been steadily recovering his weight and muscle mass and his nightmares have become infrequent, allowing him to catch up on some much needed sleep.

He still has his workaholic tendencies. He pulls his all-nighters and sometimes doesn’t go home or rest for days, but unless it’s something that cannot be delegated to a Senior Auror or is time-sensitive, he is generally forbidden by the most annoyingly nagging group of people he has ever had the pleasure of working with.

A little over a year ago, Percival could never have imagined how much his life would change in such a short time span, how many people would deem it necessary to intervene on such a personal level.

The diagnostic spells hum and buzz in the air between them and Percival is on the bed, dozing slightly in the warmth of the afternoon sun through the window.

“Have you ever thought about your own happiness, Mr. Graves?”

It takes some effort, but Percival peels his eyes open and sees the beta healer, her light hair in its usual bun and a serene smile gracing her features. In some aspects, she reminds him of his mother. The gentleness, the inner beauty that translates outwards into word and action.

They don’t talk much during these visits, only an exchange of pleasantries and the occasional inquiry about his general wellbeing. She mostly gives him the quiet, the peace that he cannot find in the work day or the darkness of night.

“My happiness...?” he asks with some difficulty, feeling rather sluggish.

“You work so hard all the time for the happiness of others, so I wonder if you've ever had the chance for your own,” she muses.

Percival lies there blinking the sleep away, trying to wrap his mind around the question. He thinks it’s supposed to be philosophical and he doesn’t have the necessary brain cells to process it and produce an answer.

In response to his silence, Eleanor says nothing else and he forgets the question for a while.

 

 

The next day, Percival enters a fancy-looking hotel room with separate bedrooms and a kitchenette. Newt greets him nervously, hopefully, and excitedly all at once and it only compounds his own nervousness about _meeting the target of his infatuation outside of work_. Because Percival has never had an infatuation since school, a period when not even suppressants could fully control teenage hormones.

“Come in, it’s alright,” Newt reassures as he leads him to the kitchen area, “It’s safe. I'm... I'm. Safe.”

“Of course you’re safe,” Percival says, finding the word choice strange. “I’m more concerned about what might happen inside the case, Newt.”

“Nothing!” Newt blurts, turning red. “Absolutely nothing will happen. I wouldn’t do anything...” here, his hands wave around aimlessly, “... untoward. Towards you. I mean, you have nothing to worry about. From me. Right. It’s all good. Yes.”

And then Newt huffs out a breath, eyes glued to the ground, positively crimson by the end of fumbling over his words. Even for him, that had been impressive.

Percival doesn't know what's going on.

“The creatures.”

Newt peeks up through his hair. “What?”

“I meant the creatures, Newt,” Percival sighs. “I know you have your clumsy moments and dubious control over your limbs but so far, nothing life-threatening has happened as a result so I’m not worried about you.”

Newt visibly deflates. “Right. The creatures, of course. A-anyway, would you like some coffee?”

It's while the coffee and tea are brewing that Percival remembers the missing Scamander.

“Where is Theseus?”

For some reason, Newt’s face pinches at the mention of his brother. “He has gone out shopping. He plans to return to England soon so he wants to get something for our parents and his friends.”

“Hm. Will he be alright by himself?”

“He said he would take some aurors with him, but even if he is alone, he’ll be fine,” Newt answers, shrugging.

Percival doesn't know if he should ask about Newt's apparent unhappiness with Theseus but thinks better of it. The last thing he wants is to end up between them again.

So, it's just the two of them. Which has never happened before away from work. This feels profoundly different, even though they are simply spending time together as friends, and Percival isn’t quite sure what to do. He doesn’t have long to think about it fortunately, because soon Newt is pressing a cup into his hands.

“Follow me, please.”

They end up in one of the bedrooms and Percival deliberately does not think about Newt and bedrooms and watches as he lays the case down on the floor, opens it and just... slithers down into it. It’s kind of surreal. When he peers into it from the outside, he sees Newt further down than he expected, waving at him.

“Pass me your cup!” he calls out.

So Percival does, floating it down to the man so he can put it away.

Climbing into the suitcase is just as surreal as climbing out of it, he recalls from that first time. It’s an experience seeing the abrupt change in environment, from city to nature, hearing and smelling the signs of life within. Percival is glad he is awake and alert this time.

Newt grasps his arm as he comes down the last few steps, stabilizing him. The coffee that went ahead is placed right back into his hand.

Newt, barely suppressing his enthusiasm, grins and opens the door saying, “Welcome to my world, Percival.”

And indeed, what a world it is. What Percival had seen the last time from inside the shed doesn’t prepare him for when he actually steps outside.

It’s beautiful, complex, and magical. It reveals the heart of the spell-caster behind this creation, the thoughts and cares that went into providing habitats for comfort and rehabilitation. Percival is led through wilderness and deserts, green pastures and rocky hills, forests both dry and wet. A cavern is melded to small field of bamboos in which an occamy nest resides. He sees graphorns, murtlaps, a herd of mooncalves and a tree of bowtruckles that Pickett refuses once again to join. Creatures of land, of sky and of other questionable origins fill the place and the majesty of it all moves Percival to tears.

“It’s wonderful,” he says once they’ve sat down on one of the grassy areas, watching a _nundu_ of all things interact with other creatures in the distance. His voice is a little tight from trying not to cry. Dougal had appeared at some point during the tour and is now resting next to Percival, a furry source of warmth along his side.

“All of this,” he gestures helplessly, unable to fully capture the experience with mere words. “I don’t know how you managed to do it. How you still manage, giving yourself to them and fighting for them when no one else would.”

Newt, for his part, looks as peaceful as one does when they’re in their element. He doesn’t boast about his work, never has. He only ever seeks to share the wonders of his discoveries and it’s sad to think that he has hit wall after wall on this journey.

When Newt turns to him, it's with a smile full of joy, eye crinkles and all. “Thank you, Percival. I knew you of all people would understand. I’m glad you like it.”

His face softens when he sees the moisture in Percival’s eyes, and Percival coughs in embarrassment, looking away. He feels Newt shift closer, and a hand runs down his back soothingly. He realises with some trepidation that he’s getting accustomed to these casual touches. But maybe he will enjoy them while he can and deal with it later when it all ends one way or another.

“By the way, are you continuing to grow out your hair?” Newt asks after a few minutes, hand having moved to play with the strands. “I could cut it for you now, if you’d like.”

It has gotten quite long, and Percival had forgotten because it had become so natural to just tie it up. Any longer, however, would be a hindrance since it could get caught or tangled in something.

“It’s alright; I can do it myself,” Percival declines, because if Newt touches his hair any more than this, he doesn’t know how he might react. Even just these gentle tugs and light brushes are too much, and he has on more than one occasion caught himself about to purr. And Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security, does not _purr_. He tells himself he’s only allowing this much as is because Newt is a tactile omega who needs it from time to time.

“Do you not trust me with your hair?” Newt asks, pouting, but his eyes are teasing.

Percival trusts a little too much, to be honest. But all he does is raise a brow pointedly. “I don’t trust anyone with scissors near my neck, wand or no wand.”

Newt leans in, peers a little closely at his shoulder area. “Well, it is a nice neck, I suppose.”

And then his hand that had been fiddling with the ends of his ponytail slides up, and fingers brush against his bare nape. Percival tenses up at the unexpected, intimate contact and then trembles slightly with the effort of trying not to bare it more.

Newt pauses in his movements, eyes widening. “This is... not appropriate at all, is it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Percival strangles out, holding his breath out of fear that he may move into the contact... or away from it.

“Sorry, sorry,” Newt hastily apologises, but he doesn’t sound sorry. If anything, he looks reluctant as he draws his fingers away.

Percival breathes out slowly, and for a moment or two he can’t _think_. No one, absolutely _no one_ outside his immediate family had ever touched such an intimate area of his body and even then, never beyond childhood. Because it’s general knowledge that the neck of an omega and all its parts are reserved for a mate. His neck right now feels incredibly sensitive, still tingling, and the heat of his flush only adds to it.

Mercy Lewis, someone urgently needs to teach this man the basic etiquettes of social interactions, and tell him one does not simply touch everything they see. Especially not where human beings are concerned.

After some minutes in which no one talks, Percival thinks about what to say in order to dispel some of the tension in the air.

“How are things with Tina?” he tries at last.

It isn't a topic he wants to talk about or dwell on, but he needs to remind himself that nothing can happen between them, and Percival needs to be rid of these strange feelings so he can support his friends.

Newt, who had been looking down at his hand and rubbing his fingers together for some reason, looks up again. Blinks. “Tina?”

“Yes. Has she been treating you well?”

“As well as she would treat anyone, I guess, but she gets exasperated with me a lot,” he answers, shrugging.

Are things not going well between them? Percival frowns in concern. “She doesn’t mean you any harm, does she? I had assumed that she’s quite the gentle-alpha. If you feel threatened by her in any way—”

“Oh, no,” Newt says, chuckling. “You know me and my antics. She sees me more and more like a brother, I think, and sometimes I grate on her nerves.”

Well, Percival can understand her to some extent. Newt’s tendency for recklessness is a well-known fact in the department, and although he can be very sweet, his lack of self-preservation at times and mostly undiplomatic ways make Percival and the aurors nervous.

But... a brother? He must mean they are close to the point that their feelings have expanded to include familial connections. Well, it seems they are progressing wonderfully, and Percival feels a bittersweet sting in his chest.

“Percival, may I ask a question?” Newt interrupts his thoughts.

Percival hums in acknowledgement, but it takes Newt a while to say the question. He fidgets, blushes slightly, and takes a few breaths as if steeling himself. Then finally...

“What would you like as a courtship gift?”

Oh, Newt’s deciding to confide in him about progressing to the next step; no wonder he seemed nervous and hesitant. It’s an important but private matter, and Percival is a little touched that Newt opened up to him. And furthermore, he can definitely give up this infatuation, at last.

“If I were her, I’d be happy with anything you gave, Newt,” Percival answers, revealing some truth of his own for the first and final time under the guise of giving advice.

“‘Her’? You mean Tina?” Newt questions with apparent confusion. “Why are we still talking about Tina?”

“Because... we’ve _been_ talking about Tina?” Percival replies slowly, now just as confused.

"Yes, we _were_ , and now I'm asking about you,” Newt says like it’s obvious.

It isn't.

“What about me?”

“About your preference for a courting gift.”

This conversation is quickly heading in a direction unknown to Percival.

“I... don’t have any,” he says, keeping the conversation going nonetheless.

Newt's face falls. “Why not?”

“Because,” Percival starts and then hesitates, because although he has known it himself for over a year now, he has never said this aloud to anyone. “I won’t ever mate.”

Newt looks even more crestfallen. "Why _not_?” he nearly whines.

It makes Percival smile because he finds it adorable that Newt is concerned for his possibility of courtship.

“Well, first of all, I’m not an ideal omega by anyone’s standards,” he says, and promptly stops Newt’s protests with a look. “I’m old and much too strong-looking whereas omegas looking to mate are generally young and fair, and gentle in their disposition.”

“You’re not old!” Newt exclaims as soon as he gets the chance. “And you are plenty beautiful, also the most gentle human I have ever met.”

Merlin, even though he knows Newt’s only being kind because that’s who he is, Percival is warmed by Newt’s defense of him.

“That’s kind of you, Newt, but we both know you’re the only one who would say that,” he says, still smiling. “Secondly, no alpha in their right mind would let me continue working, even if by some miracle MACUSA lets me keep my position should they find out my true gender. And no matter what you think, I _am_ old.”

And then his smile slips.

Newt's eyes are narrowed in anger, but he seems pained more than anything.

“Who in Merlin’s name told you that?” Percival barely hears, it’s said so quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, I know that you don’t take it too well sometimes when someone shows they care but I know you’ve been getting better. This... This is something different,” Newt continues, mostly to himself.

Percival gapes, completely disoriented by this quite revealing observation of him by Newt that had come out of nowhere. What in the world just happened? They had been conversing just fine and Newt’s suddenly upset by Percival’s reasoning for not wanting a mate.

“Who told you those things, Percival?” Newt asks again, frowning, oblivious to Percival’s thoughts.

Percival swallows. “Newt, where is this coming from?”

Newt grabs his hand, startling him, and pulls it into his lap. And although he still seems agitated, the thumb that caresses over the back of his hand is careful. The man looks down at their joined hands, and Percival, at a loss now, does as well.

“I ask you how to court you and all you talk about is how you’re unsuitable for anyone and it just made me angry,” Newt eventually says, voice tight with frustration. “And I think someone hurt you at some point and said the cruel words you believe to be truths because otherwise, you would see how amazing you are.”

And then Percival is blinking slowly because he doesn’t understand what he has just heard. Newt wants to... court him?

Percival raises his head just as Newt does, and their eyes meet. Newt’s shoulders slump and remorse steals over his features.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t angry at you,” he apologises softly. “It was at whatever made you think so little of yourself but I ended up taking it out on you. That was terrible of me.”

Pickett, who has been quiet until now, chitters in agreement and turns angrily away from Newt. He climbs down from Newt’s shoulder and across their joined hands up Percival’s arm, and settles down on his shoulder instead. Dougal, who had also been still, climbs onto Percival’s lap, cooing softly at him.

Newt glances briefly at Pickett, then Dougal, then bites his lip, eyes roaming over Percival’s face. Under Newt’s earnest gaze, Percival feels himself flushing.

The man sighs, and says a little petulantly, “This wasn’t how I expected things to go when I decided to ask,” and Percival has no response because he didn’t expect _any_ of this.

“I think you didn’t expect my offer, judging from your reaction,” Newt points out, making Percival blush harder. “Even though I’m rather clueless about most things when it comes to people, I felt something between us. For the longest time I had thought it was only me, but the more we spent time together and the more you relaxed around me, I knew it had to be reciprocated.”

What happened to sweet, shy Newt? Who is this bold man spouting such embarrassing words in such a direct manner? Percival wants to say something but he can barely wrap his mind around the possibility that _Newt Scamander wants to court him_ and that all this time he had been mistaken about him and Tina and Mercy Lewis, he has made a spectacular fool of himself.

He says the only thing that comes to mind, “But I’m an omega.”

“Yes. Lucky for me, I’m well aware of that,” Newt replies easily, “and I want you to be mine.”

Percival just wants the ground to open up and swallow him. Perhaps he should spell it open right now.

“I will give you time to think about it since this has been so sudden for you. But please keep in mind that I will not accept refusals using excuses that are based on your distorted sense of self-worth.”

Then Newt lets go and hoists himself up, dusting his pants.

“I’m feeling rather peckish, so how about we go have lunch? Dougal, please let him up,” Newt says brightly.

And Dougal slides off Percival’s lap, letting Newt help him up. After he’s standing and also dusted, Dougal takes his hand and starts pulling him toward the shed while Pickett chitters away in his ear. Percival feels like he’s floating along, thinking about how surreal the past hour has been.

When Percival looks over his shoulder, he sees Newt following them, smiling with so much fondness that Percival thinks this blush will never go away.

They don’t talk much more afterwards as they eat together in the hotel room, a few trivial things here and there, and a discussion about the list of permits in need of updates for Newt. Percival leaves not too long after, but not before running into Theseus at the door where he barely mutters a greeting, unable to look the man in the eyes.

He comes home, lays awake in bed throughout the night, thinking and not thinking.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm so happy that Newt's boldness went over well with you all. Thank you for being so kind! The Big Reveal will happen next chapter, I think.
> 
> Also, thanks to BlackjacksBest I got inspired for this scene with the aurors. These are the actors I had in mind when writing this so imagine their faces when you read it!
> 
> Fontaine - Bearded and bespectacled Lee Pace from Halt and Catch Fire  
> O’Brien – Jason Momoa  
> Abernathy – Alicia Vikander  
> Mathews – Haley Atwell  
> Johnson – Chadwick Boseman  
> Theseus – Michael Fassbender  
> Also featuring:  
> Ms. Kett – Jennifer Connelly  
> Eleanor – Gillian Anderson

Percival returns to work on Monday a little anxious, hair tied into a shorter tail because he finally cut it, but no one notices anything different (perhaps this is a pattern as well, and he contemplates conducting a special training on observation). Tina is her usual eager, hard-working self, not looking heartbroken or anything of the sort.

Newt also comes into work as usual, smiling at everything and shying away from the attention of the aurors.

Nothing changes except Newt touches him even more: lingering pats on the shoulder, a hand placed lower on his back, a _hair-brushing session_ with the brush that Ms. Kett had gifted him that Percival will never admit to.

Theseus leaves the Wednesday with a pleased smile on his face as he waves goodbye at them, promising to come back again soon (to which Newt replies, “Please, don’t,”), and Percival just knows that he knows. Newt swears that he never said anything, but Percival points out that he doesn’t have to actually say anything in order to tell someone.

Newt continues with his—dare he say—affectionate gestures, makes him take breaks, brings him food, gives him near heart-attacks on missions. All of these things combined leave him flustered to the point that his aurors _do_ notice and he resents that they choose such an inconvenient time to be observant.

One time, he’s smiling because he’s recalling something Newt had said and he absentmindedly lets in whoever is outside the door. It’s Abernathy, the only omega Senior Auror on his team, who has earned her spot fair and square. When he glances up at her, she stops. Stares.

Percival raises a brow. “Yes, Auror Abernathy?”

She blinks out of her stupor and clears her throat. “You seem... happy, sir.”

It’s then that he realises that she had seen him smiling and he straightens, face serious once more. Inwardly, he curses himself.

“I can’t be a miserable old man all the time, can I,” he tries casually, shuffling papers.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, sir,” Abernathy shakes her head nervously, and Percival thinks she’s going to stop there and get to her point but, “It’s a good look on you.”

Abernathy turns pink then turns around and leaves, and Percival is left wondering why she had come to his office in the first place.

Another time, he and Newt had just parted ways after lunch because Newt has been assigned to a case and is going out to the field today. Percival is still reeling from what Newt had done in the privacy of his office: _holding his hand_. At _work_. Percival had nearly groaned in embarrassment into his arm but only hid his face instead as Newt wound their fingers together.

When he steps out to check on his aurors, O’Brien, who is just coming back from lunch as well, walks up to greet him.

“Hey, Director,” he says, boisterous and grinning. “How come little Newt gets to eat with you in your office all the time? I know you want to protect him from us big, bad alphas and all, but it isn’t fair that you guys hog each other all the time. Give us a chance, too, you know?”

Percival frowns. He isn't _hogging_ Newt; the man is allowed to spend his free time however he wants. He just tends to, well, be with Percival most of the time. He tries not to squirm thinking about why that is.

“Unless there’s _something else_ going on in that office. Then I can understand,” O’Brien continues, tone mischievous, adding a wink at the end.

And damn this man, Percival is suddenly remembering the roughness of Newt’s finger tips as they stroked lightly over the underside of his wrist sending little shivers up his spine and the warmth that had radiated from their joined palms and he can’t stop the flush spreading over his face.

He is painfully aware of the hush that falls around him and O’Brien staring in shock before stammering out, “O-of course, that’s none of my business, sir!”

Percival barks at them to get back to work before storming away, and no one speaks of the incident again.

But then he hears what his aurors discuss when they think he isn’t listening. He happens to catch them when he’s about to enter the room one morning, but for some reason keeps himself hidden behind the wall.

“Don’t you think Director Graves has been a little off, lately?” he hears Abernathy.

“You mean _better_ , right?”

“You make is sound like he was bad before, Johnson.”

“No! I mean, he seems more relaxed. Smiling more. Happier, you know?”

“Three guesses as to what—or rather, _who_ is causing that,” drawls Mathews.

“Damn it, he’s going for little Newt, isn’t he. There goes my chance.”

Johnson laughs. “Shut up, O’Brien. You were never serious about that.”

“Anyway, aren’t they already together?” asks Fontaine.

“I don’t think so; Mr. Graves says they’re just friends.”

“And how the hell did you find that out? Did you just go up and ask him?” O’Brien asks incredulously.

“Of course I did. I have balls unlike some of you lot, here.”

“I challenge you to a duel right here, right now! You can’t insult me like that and get away with it!”

“Who said it was you, O’Brien? Or are you trying to tell us something about missing a certain part of your anatomy?”

“Shut up, both of you. This conversation is not about you two or any missing testicles. Please respect that.”

“ _You_ shut up, Fontaine.”

“That’s _Deputy Director_ Fontaine to you.”

“Morgana help us...” groans Johnson.

Abernathy sighs. "I wish I could have had a chance with the Director.”

Silence.

“You—Abernathy—you. _You_?”

“What? He’s a dashing gentle-alpha who’s charismatic, just, hard-working, and loyal. And the Director of Magical Security of MACUSA. What omega wouldn’t want such a man for a mate?”

“Because you always seem uninterested in anything and everything?” Johnson points out.

“Well, he is a fine specimen, our Director,” Mathews muses. “If he wasn’t an alpha, I’d want to court him myself.”

“Even though he’s an alpha, I’d court him.”

Silence again.

Mathews barks a laugh. “Ha! I knew that whole ‘little Newt’ thing was a lie!”

“Sweet Merlin, those are your true feelings, aren’t they, O’Brien.” Fontaine sounds rather shocked.

“Oh, come on, you guys. Don’t you think he’s just so small and cute? And super-manly, too.”

Percival is mortified by this description of him.

“Oh my god, O’Brien, _everyone_ is small and cute compared to you.”

Fontaine snorts. “Especially you, Abernathy.”

“Ha, that’s not true!” exclaims O’Brien. “Remember the toad in Wands Permit?”

“You utter bastard! You cannot disrespect our ancient co-worker like that!”

“Wow, Mr. Deputy Director, I can’t believe you just called her ‘ancient’ like that’s any better,” says Mathews.

“Can we get back on topic, please?” Johnson pleads.

“So, do you think I have a chance? Maybe the Director won’t court Newt after all.”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t you remember how he blushed so hard that time like he was a virgin having his first sexual encounter? They are _so_ getting up to something in that office.

“You are one crude lady, Mathews.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true, is it.”

Percival jumps at the sudden voice in his ear but thankfully he stops his instinct from pulling his wand and he knows he’s blushing already as he turns to find Newt, who is also a little red, grinning at him.

“So, um, I have something to ask you. Could we talk in the office?”

Percival calms himself, waits for the warmth in his face to dissipate, then nods because he doesn’t trust his voice right now. They walk together through the room and he glares at his Senior Aurors when they pass them and takes some satisfaction in their pale, horrified faces.

“Oh my god, we’re going to die,” he hears Senior Auror Johnson groan, and it makes him feel a little better.

But his mind is reeling from what he had just heard. He knows his aurors are friendly towards him but to think that some of them had even wanted to court him! He can’t be blamed because they had never expressed such desires before. Not in any obvious way, at least. How in the world is he supposed to face them now with this knowledge?

“They can’t have you,” Newt says as soon as he closes the door behind them. “I asked you first.”

And Newt continues to embarrass him.

“What did you want, Newt?” Percival sighs.

“Have you considered your answer yet?”

Merlin, he needs a break.

 

 

Percival writes to his family because the possibility of courtship isn’t his decision to make alone. After the one courtship in his teenage years that had failed miserably, Percival hadn’t been as open to other offers despite his mother’s insistence that “this time will be better”.

The second time he had tried had been after he became an auror, travelling back and forth between his home in New York and his family’s home to ensure his secrecy. When the alpha had asked him to choose between his budding career and having a family, Percival had chosen his career for that moment, hoping they could build a family later instead. The alpha who had been sweet on him up until that point had been furious and hurled words that had made him angry in return. Needless to say, that had been a disaster as well.

His mother had kept trying afterwards, but she wouldn’t insist further as soon as he said ‘no’.

He writes how an omega wishes to court him, and asks if there is such a thing and if his family would approve. He describes Newt as being a beautiful, wonderful man who is attentive and respectful, supportive and caring. He writes how he believes that Newt is genuine in his intentions and would less likely harm him compared to the nicest alpha in the _world_.

He writes that he wouldn’t be able to give them grandchildren either way, that he is barren now (he rubs his stomach absently as he writes this part, a strange tightness in his throat) because of an injury and so even if Newt had been an alpha, it wouldn’t have mattered.

He tells them how happy Newt makes him and asks ‘Shouldn’t that be all that matters?’ because they have told him again and again that all they want is for him to be happy.

He asks for a swift reply because he is on the cusp of making a decision and he would like their support.

His mother, his sweet, gentle mother replies that of course he only needs to be happy and that Newt sounds like a wonderful young man, that Percival should visit them soon and bring him along. She expresses that she is sorry to hear about his barrenness and hopes he is healthy otherwise.

The letter is full of words he had expected yet not, and his family’s encouragement is a huge weight off his chest.

Seraphina, when he tells her, only laughs in delight as he describes what has been going on in his department.

“For such a smart man, you can be dense sometimes, Percival,” and Percival glares at her. “Your aurors have always liked you and I’m not surprised to hear they have been aiming for you.”

“He’s good for you, Percival,” she also says wisely. “You have my blessing, if you want it.”

He couldn't have asked for a better friend.

And at the end of three long weeks which had been full of heart-tripping moments, Newt leans in close from across Percival’s desk, asks, “I, Newt Scamander, formally request permission to court Mr. Percival Graves.”

And Percival, red in the face, says, “I accept.”

 

 

Theseus Scamander, lover of all things concerning his precious little brother, gets wind of their brand new courtship (“I swear I didn’t tell him anything!”) and comes to visit the next month.

“Are they actually allowing you these visits or are you abusing your power, Theseus?” Percival asks sceptically when they are settled in his office after the usual loud entrance by his friend.

“This is an important family matter, Percival. We take these things seriously and you need my support for this to go smoothly,” and Theseus gracefully ignores Percival’s disgruntled mutter of ‘no, we don’t’. “Congratulations, by the way!”

Percival relaxes, finally allowing a small smile. “Thank you.”

But then he tenses as Theseus casts a silencing charm around the room, and says, “So, can I ask you something?”

It makes Percival want to reach for his wand.

Theseus's eyes soften from their usual sharp gaze, and his lips quirk. “Relax, Graves, I’m not doing anything. I just thought you wouldn’t want anyone to hear this.”

Ironically, his words don’t really help Percival relax.

Theseus sighs. "Okay, so, how come you never corrected me?"

Percival narrows his eyes, confused. “About what?”

“You being an omega.”

And Percival feels the blood drain from his face so quickly as a chill pierces through his heart, it leaves him nearly breathless.

“What?” he croaks, then clears his throat. “What in the world are you saying?” But he knows it’s already too late because he couldn’t control his reaction at the unexpected words. _How did he find out?_

It couldn’t be...

"Newt never said anything, if that's what you're thinking,” Theseus says as if reading his mind, a disapproving frown on his face. “Don’t discredit him like that.”

Percival looks away in shame because yes, he had doubted Newt for a moment but he should have known better.

When the silence that follows becomes unbearable, Percival asks quietly, “How did you know? How do you know Newt already knows?”

“It wasn’t anything obvious, so no worries. I’m just that good.” Theseus smirks, trying to lighten the mood, but continues quickly when Percival only glares. “Little things here and there, pieced them together. Like how you’re constantly on suppressants, first of all. Even in our field of work, they’re only necessary on a case-by-case basis but I realised you’re on them all the time, no matter when I visit. You also tend to look tired sometimes, tired of being strong.”

“Everybody gets tired of being strong eventually,” Percival interrupts curtly, heart twisting.

“I know, I know. But with you it was different somehow. I didn’t notice it at first but now we’re pretty good friends and I get this glimpse of something from time to time. Anyway, that’s more of my instinct than a solid tell,” Theseus says, shrugging. “Also, your President called me to her office one time and grilled me about my intentions towards you, and told me not to bother you too much.”

When did Seraphina do _that_? And in such an obvious manner, too, Percival thinks hysterically.

“Okay, that’s not exactly true. She asked me about my business at MACUSA and how the consultations with you were going, but I got the gist of it.”

Percival thinks he might faint soon because the more Theseus talks, how _obvious_ he makes it seem, it chokes him with fear.

“And Newt—Newt isn’t a conventional one either, as you already know. He suppresses himself, too, for his work with his beloved beasts. I think he tried to suppress himself around you, too, but more and more I see him acting instinctively towards you and really, it couldn’t have been more obvious to me who has watched him grow up.

”But anyway, that’s how it happened and I wanted to apologise if I was too rough or careless with you before. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

And then his fear is forgotten because he’s completely baffled. “How come _you’re_ the one apologising?” Percival asks.

“Because I’ve probably been an asshole to you? Not that I knew before because you didn’t even tell me,” Theseus says almost accusingly.

“Alphas aren’t usually receptive to omegas in a high position since they don’t think we’re capable,” Percival reasons distractedly because Theseus, his alpha friend, seems to be saying he doesn’t care that Percival is an omega.

"Well, you're perfectly capable, aren’t you? _The_ Percival Graves, descendant of the Original Twleve, Director of Magical Security, the most successful at solving cases in the history of MACUSA and all that. If that doesn’t prove how capable you are, I don’t know what does. Your President and your aurors are fine with it, so who is to say otherwise?”

Percival feels like his chest might collapse from the weight of relief, the overwhelming gratitude because here is yet another friend, apart from Seraphina and Newt, who accepts him as who he is, omega nature and all.

“My aurors don’t know, actually,” he manages through the tightness in his throat. “Please don’t tell them.”

Theseus leans back in his chair, shaking his head but smiling. “Ah, I suspected as much. I can’t imagine how much you had to keep to yourself to the point that these usually sharp guys don’t have a clue about you, and now so much time has passed that you being an alpha is just a matter of fact to them.”

Percival thinks that in this moment, Theseus proves as well that he is worth every title he has ever received, every respect and honour. He can’t believe how _good_ this man is.

“Oh geez, don’t get emotional on me now, Graves.”

“Shut up, Scamander, there is no emotional anything going on.”

“You know, this would be the perfect time for Newt to come in and punch me in the face for making his omega cry.”

“I’m not _crying_ —”

“Percival?” Newt calls as he enters without knocking. “I heard Theseus was here—” and then he stops, taking in the situation with his eyes.

Theseus groans, "Just my luck," and it makes Percival laugh because this whole conversation feels like a dream and he’s feeling light-hearted and he can blame his wet eyes on his stomach hurting. But then he stops because Newt is looking at him in that stupidly fond way again and he is not doing this in front of his friend. He waves the door shut.

"Ugh, get a room, you two,” Theseus complains and directs Newt’s attention away.

“What did you do, Theseus?” Newt growls dangerously low, and Percival wonders how the sound is even possible for him.

“Merlin, I didn’t _do_ anything. We were just talking.”

“It’s alright, Newt,” Percival intervenes. “He just wanted to congratulate us. And tell me that he knows, about me being an omega.”

Newt’s eyes immediately lock onto his and he sees fear, strangely.

“Percival,” Newt stammers, “I didn’t—It wasn’t me. I never said anything, please, believe me—”

And it dawns on Percival, and his heart twists in shame that he had ever doubted Newt even for moment.

“Newt!” Percival snaps, stopping the man’s rambling, then continues gently, “Newt, it’s alright, I know you didn’t. Your brother’s just too smart for his own good.”

It pains him when he sees Newt deflate in obvious relief and he regrets that he had ever caused him such distress. Newt deserves better than his doubts and anxieties clouding his judgement at every turn.

Theseus breaks the tension, saying, “So, since Newt didn’t punch me in the face, let’s go out to celebrate. My treat.”

Newt punches him in the shoulder.

 

 

Later on, towards the end of their celebration outing after work, Percival is light-headed from a couple drinks and Theseus is passed out on his shoulder again while Newt looks on, amused.

He takes Percival's hand, as gently as he did the other time, winds their fingers together. Percival squeezes back despite being embarrassed by this very public display.

“You know,” Newt says, smiling down at their hands. “I’m glad Theseus like you and that you’re okay with him, too. But even if he didn’t approve of you, that wouldn’t have made a difference to me.”

Percival’s heart feels like it might burst at Newt’s quiet, but solid conviction.

“He’s a good man, your brother.”

“I know, but you can’t think about switching between us, okay?” Newt jokes, and Percival’s a little offended, being accused of such frivolity, but his words don’t make it past his lips when he sees Newt’s pinched brows despite his smile, crooked in its uncertainty.

It occurs to Percival that Newt has his fears, too. That ever since That Incident, Newt has been trying so very hard but constantly dreading that Percival can turn his back on him. He remembers all the times that he would express any sort of anger or frustration and Newt would clam up before rushing out apologies, asking for forgiveness and that he can do better.

It hurts, that Percival has nowhere near reassured Newt as much as the man has been doing for Percival. That simply won’t do, if they are to continue with this courtship.

Percival tugs lightly on Newt’s hand, signalling for him to come closer, and when Newt leans in, he says, “I’m already with the better brother.”

And the shy, happy smile that blooms on Newt's face is worth every ounce of embarrassment on his part for saying such sappy things.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through many, many ideas for the Big Reveal and this is the one that came to me. I'm fine with it, so I hope you like it. I totally got flustered writing some scenes I had to stop and scream silently into my hands. It was an interesting one to write.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for being so patient!! And there may or may not be an update tomorrow because I'll be out so I may not be able to finish the next chapter. I think we only have 2-3 more to go so let's cross our fingers and hope I don't flake out, lol.

In hindsight, Percival thinks it should have been obvious. All the signs had been there, but his and everyone else's concept of the truth had been already cemented since the beginning and, well, no one had believed the earth revolved around the sun for a long time, either.

 

 

Newt’s idea of courtship is as unconventional as the man himself is. He understands the general idea being the presenting of gifts to the intended and showing affections through each subsequent gift until the intended returns a gift of their own, thereby allowing progress to the next step which is the engagement stage.

Percival isn’t sure whether it will even get that far, but for now he's happy.

That is, until he experiences the gift-giving of one Newt Scamander:

_“... That’s mine.”_

_“No, it_ was _yours, but now I’m gifting it back to you.”_

_“It doesn’t count as a real gift when your damn niffler steals something from me just so you can give it back, Newt.”_

_“Well, since I stole it, it belongs to me now. And since it was yours, I’m giving you something that I know you’ll like. See?”_

_Percival sighs. “Just give me my damn pen, Mr. Scamander.”_

The next had been even more bewildering:

_“You bring me a sandwich every other day. Literally.”_

_"Yes, because if I don't feed you, you'll pass out at some inconvenient time and then I’ll have to rehabilitate you.”_

_“Rehabili—you know what, never mind. So it’s a gift now because...?”_

_“Because I’m giving it as a gift.”_

_“... Newt, I think we need to talk about this.”_

_“Are you complaining again, Percival? I’m not sure how I feel about your complaints with everything I’ve given you so far. What happened to, ‘I’d be happy with anything you gave, Newt’?”_

_“Merlin, why do you remember that—”_

So Newt tries another way:

 _“It isn’t legal for me to be carrying around an_   _occamy egg and hatching it on my own.”_

_“Yes, it is. I made sure of it. Nothing in your stuffy rule books about the Director of Magical Security not being allowed creatures on their persons for protection. Even checked with the President.”_

_“It’s called the ‘law’, not a ‘stuffy rule book’ no matter if you think it is. And you involved Seraphina in this?” Percival questions incredulously._

_“She is the final authority concerning all things you, isn’t she?”_

_“How does that even—_ I’m _the authority on all things me.”_

_“Anyway, I did ask you what you wanted but you never answered me properly.”_

_“You asked me just once.”_

_“And you lost your chance.”_

There is no such thing as a sweet Newt. He’s the most frustrating, pushy, childish man and Percival wouldn’t change him for anything. Every so-called ‘gift’ he has received so far is a perfect representation of who Newt is and although he may outwardly complain, it warms him to receive what he considers different aspects of Newt. So yes, he had been telling the truth when he said he’d be happy with anything from the man. And goodness, even in his own head that had sounded too sappy.

Percival and Newt are the source of the department’s entertainment, nowadays. It had taken a few days for him and his aurors to stop being uncomfortable around each other after his overhearing of their rather revealing conversation, but everyone congratulates him and Newt and wishes them all the best. Percival thanks them, touched.

At first they had questioned why Newt was the one doing the pursuing in the courtship stage, and Newt had looked at them, perplexed, and said, “Because I’m supposed to.”

All of them had laughed, finding it cute that Newt wanted to be the assertive one. But while the Director is certainly someone worth pursuing (Percival had scowled in embarrassment at hearing that, damn Mathews), “it’s usually the alpha who gives the gifts, Newt.”

Newt had only become more confused. “Yes,” he had said slowly, “I know.”

And then everyone had shrugged because why deny what the cute kid wants to do? But it had given Percival something to think about.

Does Newt really want to be the assertive one? Wouldn’t it be weird for both of them to be assertive since Percival is the assumed alpha? He honestly has no idea because first of all, he doesn’t remember the last time he had been close enough to anyone to reach this stage, and secondly, he has never been in a same-gender relationship like this before.

But then everyone accepts their courtship for what it is and soon, Percival doesn’t consider it an important matter.

Tina congratulates him personally—and really, he shouldn’t be endorsing the kind of behaviour that lets his aurors think it’s okay to visit his office for personal reasons. And for Percival, not that he is inconveniencing her in anyway because he had assumed wrongly her relationship with Newt in the first place, but it’s a weight off his chest to hear her heartfelt support.

She invites him to dinner at her place, informing him that Queenie wants to congratulate them in person as well. Percival hesitates because he hasn’t seen the other Goldstein sister since that time she expressed her gratitude and he isn’t sure if he wants any reminders of the law they’re breaking.

“You don’t have to do anything that upsets you, Percival,” Newt says, gentle and encouraging, when Percival asks what he thinks during a break. The lack of judgement and the truthfulness of the words help him to admit that maybe he isn’t quite ready to face Queenie again yet.

Tina understands, and though her eyes are sad, she genuinely thanks him for considering it.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Newt asks later, when they’re having lunch in Percival’s office after his refusal the next morning. They’re sitting on the sofa eating hot dogs, courtesy of Tina. “Your aurors like you, Percival, and they’re intelligent and capable people who see how good you are. It’s okay to show them that you’re human.”

Newt is clearly in a mood to be embarrassing today. Again.

“Shut up and finish your hot dog, Newt.”

 

 

It starts with a smell.

Percival enters his office and stops at the door, noticing something different about it but unable to pinpoint what, exactly. He cautiously casts a spell, making sure all the wards are in place and that nothing has been moved.

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Graves?” asks Ms. Kett worriedly.

“No, it’s nothing,” Percival replies as nothing happens, but... “Has anyone dropped by earlier?”

“Not since I arrived, sir, unless they came before me.”

Percival nods his thanks and walks in, shaking off the feeling. His wards are intact and everything is as he left it the night before. He must be tired today.

Thankfully, Newt arrives shortly after with a coffee in his hand and Percival could kiss the man. Newt laughs when he sees Percival’s face as he focuses immediately on the cup in his hand.

“Another gift from me to you, Mr. Graves,” Newt says cheekily, holding it just out of reach (damn his height!), so Percival just points at it and floats it into his own hand.

It makes Newt pout, and Percival hides a smile behind the first sip.

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander. It’s appreciated.”

Newt smiles brightly, and Percival absently thinks that he has been much more successful lately at causing it. He likes it more than he would like to admit.

After Newt leaves, Percival gets that feeling again from when he had first come into work this morning. He makes a note to himself to observe closely what happens in his office for the next few days. He could just be acting paranoid, but Percival didn’t become the Director for his proficiency in magic and strong sense of discipline alone. He trusts his instincts.

And sure enough, by Friday, there’s a faint smell that lingers in his office. It’s definitely foreign, because Percival would recognise any of his subordinates’ scents and all other employees in MACUSA rarely come by. But the spells reveal nothing, and for some reason, Percival can’t say it’s a bad smell.

“Sir, is that you?” Tina asks in the afternoon after finishing her report and sniffing the room out of curiosity.

Percival straightens. “You notice it as well, yes?”

“It’s even getting stronger, I think,” she replies.

“I don’t recall anyone new having visited recently,” Percival muses.

“Perhaps Newt is hiding one of his creatures in here,” Tina laughs. “But I doubt it. The scent is more... human.”

“Yes, it’s rather nice,” Percival thinks out loud.

Tina’s eyes widen and Percival freezes, realising what he has just said.

“Um. I suppose it could be?” she says uncertainly.

And then she stands there awkwardly while Percival stares at his bookshelf, wondering what on earth had possessed him to say that.

“You may leave now, Auror Goldstein,” he tells her, still not looking her way, and Tina thanks him quickly before nearly running away.

Percival breathes and runs a hand over his face, and the scent that wafts up his nose relaxes him. It _is_ nice. And it’s stronger when Newt walks in.

The man doesn’t even pause, just walks right up to Percival’s desk and leans over, elbows on the surface to support his torso. He rests his chin on a palm and grins at Percival, doesn’t even say anything. And he brings with him _that scent_ and it’s quite apparent in this proximity.

“Oh,” Percival breathes, wide eyes on Newt’s.

“Hm?” Newt hums curiously, tilting his head.

“Where have you been?” Percival asks weakly, simultaneously wanting to lean away and get closer to that scent. “Are you on a new case?”

Newt makes a face like he just remembered something. “Ah, I knew I was forgetting something,” he says but not sounding very concerned. He then straightens up and moves towards the couch and Percival has to hold back a whine when the scent goes away as well. And then a cold washes over him as he’s shocked by his own reaction.

“There’s a new smuggling ring that we’re looking into,” Newt starts explaining as soon as he sits down, hands behind his head and leaning back, posture open. “We decided that some of us should go undercover to investigate and I was one of them. Just got back this morning, actually, and I got chosen to come here to report our findings.”

“I see,” Percival says distractedly. Then Newt must have picked up that scent from somewhere

Even after Newt is gone, the scent lingers and it unconsciously makes Percival’s day.

 

 

The next day, since it’s a rare, free weekend for Percival, he spends it helping Newt feed and take care of his creatures. He notices a few things as they work together:

Newt is quite muscular. Percival has muscles of his own, but they’re nothing like Newt’s. The man is surprisingly... bulky. Not too much so, but more than expected. Particularly the back, shoulders and arms. He supposes it’s all the lifting and carrying he prefers to do when bringing out the food.

He can also be quite forceful when it comes to rearing the beasts, such as when he needs to break up fights or calm them down. Percival is awed every time Newt faces down that nundu of his. They all defer to him easily.

Percival, on the other hand, has trouble keeping the creatures away from himself as they seem to enjoy surrounding him and being in contact with him in some way. The mooncalves are cute, though. Newt says it’s good because he can feed them easier when they’re all together in one place but then they quickly disperse them when they start getting agitated by the encroachment of their own spaces.

“Maybe I should just keep you in the workshop next time,” Newt laughs as he herds the graphorns away.

And then he literally _growls_ at Lily, the nundu, until she whines and lets herself be chased away.

Percival stares, stunned, and he feels a low burning sensation in his lower abdomen, suddenly short of breath.

“Time for our own meal, don’t you think?” Newt asks when he returns, and Percival just nods wordlessly, steadfastly focusing on the ground, and lets himself be led out of the case.

 

 

Sunday night, Percival wakes up gasping and crying and shivering, and immediately rolls off the bed to crouch into a ball, the cold floor of the room against his forehead slowly grounding him back to reality. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he is calm enough to climb back up into his bed, and lay on his back to stare at the ceiling.

The curses that had tormented him in his dream have left phantom sensations all over and he waits until those go away, too.

The nightmares have lessened significantly over time and they hardly affect his sleep anymore, but every once in a while a bad one will surface leaving Percival shaken for a good hour afterwards. He sighs and turns onto his side, the expanse of the empty space next to him echoing hollow in his chest, an ache he can’t seem to ignore these days.

In the darkest of nights, when he is weak from his loneliness and fears, Percival wishes Newt was here. He then wonders what the man sees in him because he is old and damaged, but then hates himself for doubting Newt’s words of assurance.

He knows it’s about time to give an answer, either gift Newt as an acceptance of his courting or reject him and call this off. He thinks of the possibility that either of them may regret the engagement.

Percival reaches out and picks up the occamy egg sitting on the other pillow, a charm keeping it warm, and he pets the egg to distract himself from these thoughts.

But tonight is one where he is unsuccessful, and tonight he is too weak to hold back the tears. He cries silently, trembling fingers grasping onto the egg.

 

 

Something tickles his ear. Percival feels his body waking slowly, and he does _not_ want to move from his comfortable position. But then the tickling becomes worse and he has no choice but to lift a hand to rub away whatever’s causing it. He fingers brush against a rope-like thing and it cheeps in his ear.

Percival freezes, then scrambles up quickly, moving just in time to catch something falling into his lap.

The thing is frozen as well, and the two of them are locked in a staring contest until Percival blinks first and then the baby occamy screeches.

Oh no, he just has time to think before being pushed into a wall by a massively overgrown snake thing.

 

 

He comes into work bruised and slightly disheveled, a still-shivering but regular-sized baby occamy around his neck. It’s small enough that the length of it barely makes the circumference of his neck and although he’d rather not have anything touching him there, the poor, scared creature seems to prefer warmth directly from his skin. Unfortunately, his neck is usually the only exposed part of him on a regular basis besides his hands which he needs.

Percival is reminded of the first day he had returned to work after the Grindelwald fiasco, where those who had noticed him had gaped at his presence as he walked past them. Today, he gets the same reactions because of his new companion that adds a little splash of colour to his attire.

He ignores the stares and murmurs and pointing fingers again, walking briskly to his department where the aurors are less passive in their reactions.

“Boss, is that—”

“Nice accessory, boss!”

“What the heck is that thing?”

And so on and so forth. Unfortunately, it makes the occamy tense up and curl tighter around him because the noises are too much. He makes his way towards Newt, who watches him approach with wide eyes and an amused smile, and signals wordlessly for him to follow as he passes by.

He sees Newt scrambling up from his desk in his periphery and continues on to his office.

Ms. Kett's only reaction is a slight lift of her brows, clearly having witnessed too many strange things already since his return. Percival nods at her in greeting and enters his office.

Newt arrives shortly after. He’s silent as he approaches where Percival is sitting on the sofa, obviously knowing that he shouldn’t be making noises right now. Instead of sitting next to him, Newt crouches in front of him and rests his arms on Percival’s knees. Percival’s breath catches.

He notices that scent again, and it’s stronger now. Strong enough that Percival can identify it as an alpha. What has Newt been doing lately?

“Let’s take a look at you,” Newt murmurs softly, face closing in.

Percival holds his breath, because Newt is leaning in much too close and their bodies are about to touch and he wants to bare his throat for some insane reason. He can feel himself shaking from the effort of holding still, but thankfully, Newt is too focused on the occamy.

“You’re a beautiful little girl, aren’t you?” Newt coos, a finger gently stroking the length of her body and that’s worse because a slip could mean contact with Percival’s bare skin. “A little smaller than the average chick, but that doesn’t really matter for your species.”

So, it’s a female and undersized. Percival tries to focus on the facts about his occamy instead of the body heat coming from Newt.

“Everything seems to be looking good so far, the state of her feathers, the muscles, no unusual movements...” Newt continues in a quiet, soothing tone and Percival seems to react to it as much as the occamy does as she relaxes.

It’s like he knows that voice. Not in the sense that he’s heard it every day, but something else bothers him about it.

“Have you fed her yet?” Newt asks, still petting her and glancing up at Percival.

Percival can't find his voice and he feels himself flushing. Newt’s so damn close. Eventually, he manages to strangle out, “Newt, if you could back off, please...”

“Hm? Oh. Oh!” Newt finally gets the hint and straightens up, takes a step back. “Sorry, that must have been uncomfortable for you.”

Percival clears his throat, trying to control his flush, and the occamy chirps in response.

“I’ve fed her, yes. Turns out my house isn’t exactly pest-free.”

It had been disgusting, watching her crunch viciously on a bug after he had managed to get her back to her original size, but he does what he has to do.

“Wonderful! You’re already doing such a good job taking care of her,” Newt praises, and the flush returns.

“It’s only because I read your book,” Percival says like it’s no big deal, close to fidgeting under Newt’s gaze, but Newt only looks prouder.

“You researched in advance, and that’s a good indication to me that I can trust you with her.”

Mercy Lewis, this man certainly doesn't pull punches with his compliments. Even after all these months, Percival has a difficult time with such words directed at him.

“Does she have a name?” asks Newt, sitting down next to him, oblivious to Percival’s embarrassment.

Finally, a safe topic. “No, I haven’t thought of one yet.”

“I could help you—”

“No, thank you,” Percival declines quickly. “I’m not sure that I trust your naming sense.”

Newt pouts and Percival gets a sudden, intense urge to kiss it so he turns away abruptly from the temptation. He needs to distract himself quickly, and he wonders if he should ask Newt about the alpha whose scent seems to be on him. He hopes it’s nothing.

“Percival?” he hears concern from Newt. “Are you alright?”

Percival sighs, rubbing his forehead to get rid of the ache between his eyes. “I’m fine, a little tired.”

And he is, he realises. The nightmare, the crying, lack of sleep, almost getting killed by an occamy, all of this had compounded into an exhausting, stressful morning.

They stay quiet like that for a few moments, the occamy occasionally chirping, then he feels a tug on his hair and the strands coming loose. Percival turns back to see what happened, then finds his head grasped between Newt’s hands.

Newt combs his fingers gently through his hair, untangling and straightening, then presses into his scalp. The pressure is glorious, and Percival nearly groans right then and there at the magical feeling of being massaged, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure. He doesn’t hear Newt’s breath hitching, can only focus on how the headache is leaving him bit by bit and how wonderful it feels to be touched like this. He doesn’t realise when he starts to purr, when he starts to lean into the fingers. He breathes in deeply and he gets a full dose of that wonderful scent that still hasn’t dissipated—if anything, it’s stronger than before—and practically melts in bliss.

But his eyes snap open when a hand slides down the side of his face, caressing the outer line of his ear on the way, and cups his jaw gently to tip his chin back. Fingers touch what little part of his throat is not occupied by the occamy.

They press carefully, like Newt’s trying to feel the vibrations in his throat.

Percival tenses as Newt slowly looks up from where his fingers are to meet his eyes. Not appropriate, he thinks hysterically. There’s an intensity in Newt’s gaze, something that Percival can’t read. His breathing stutters when a slow smile spreads across the man’s face, this one unlike any other smile he has seen before.

“There you go,” Newt croons.

Percival feels caught, and his omega desires to submit.

And then it hits him. The soothing voice, the hand on his face, the _scent_ , the combination of all three. The odd sense of familiarity he had gotten from time to time which he now understands is from the hazy memories of his heat. How his omega had unconsciously responded to the person who had given him comfort and security during his most vulnerable time.

Newt is not an omega.

“You’re an alpha,” Percival gasps, trembling with the realisation.

“Of course,” Newt confirms easily, a finger stroking lightly the skin underside Percival’s jaw, causing him to bite back a whine. And then he stops, frowning. “I don’t think you meant that as a casual observation.”

Percival, with considerable effort, forces himself to draw away from Newt’s hands, clenching his own into shaking fists because otherwise, he might just grab Newt and shake him. Then never let go.

“You—um,” Newt starts, now looking confused, unsure. “You knew that, right?”

“Were you the alpha in the cellar? Where you first found me?” Percival demands instead, and he can feel the occamy tensing again but his mind is about to shut down on him as it races through the memories that assault him, the moments he had written off as Newt’s unconventionality, his protective and near-overbearing nature as a personality quirk. Because Percival himself also acts as an alpha. But now his own reactions _make sense_ and Newt had been an alpha all along responding to Percival’s omega and the last puzzle piece slides into place.

No wonder he hadn’t cared about the possibility of a taboo relationship when he had asked Percival’s permission for courtship. _Merlin._

“I was the first one there when you had just started your—your. You know,” Newt gestures awkwardly. “I mean, I didn’t smell anyone else except _him_ , so... And I was an alpha back then, too, if that’s what you’re asking,” Newt answers hesitantly, watching him with worry, and Percival snorts at that.

He sighs heavily, head still spinning and feeling even more exhausted than he had earlier this morning, so he turns to hide his face on the back of the sofa. So, he hadn’t imagined an alpha with him during his last heat. It had been _Newt_. The alpha who had been there and the first who had found him to take him to safety were one in the same.

Despite feeling cheated somehow, Percival is immensely grateful that it had been Newt—sweet, kind Newt who had only comforted him and not taken advantage of Percival’s state. His medical charts prove that easily. And now he’s blinking back tears because how is this his luck after all these years, after encountering many brutish, hot-headed alphas, thinking that it was too late for him, that he ends up with (what he recalls writing to his mother as)  _the_ nicest alpha in the world?

“Percival?” Newt calls quietly, concern evident in his voice. “I didn’t mean to hide it or anything, I thought—I thought you already knew. From that time. I’m sorry.”

Newt sounds vulnerable towards the end, and it makes Percival lift his head and turn to look at him. Newt is chewing on his lip, eyes wide and afraid, _keeping his distance_ since Percival drew away first. And all of a sudden he feels a rush of affection for him. For this alpha, who is quick to apologise, to feel remorse for his actions, to feel guilt over things that aren’t even his fault because Percival and his aurors had assumed wrong all this time when Newt had never said or implied anything about his gender. For this alpha who cares and feels so deeply and has been hurt by others, Percival himself included, just like anyone else.

This alpha who, when Percival finally holds out his hand, is quick to grasp it and hold on like he thinks Percival might disappear.

“Newt Scamander,” Percival says, smiling helplessly, “you are the strangest alpha I have ever met.”

“I-I suppose,” Newt stutters, clearly oblivious to the weight of Percival’s revelation. “I mean, I’m strange by anyone’s standards, really. What with the animals and not being good with people and all.”

“You’re good with me,” Percival confesses, and he watches as an adorable flush spreads over Newt’s face.

“Oh,” he breathes. “That’s. That’s good.”

Then something occurs to Percival. “Are you off of your suppressants?”

Newt looks caught. “Ah, yes, because I haven’t been out of the city for a while and haven’t had to renew them for working with any new creatures. So I just... forgot. And the ones in the case are already getting accustomed to it. The newer ones are okay as long as I remain calm for them.”

The man shrugs and continues, “I forgot that people could smell it, too. It’s not weird, is it?”

“I like it,” Percival admits and inhales again, confirms that yes indeed, he does.

Newt brightens. “Oh, I'm glad, then.”

And Percival, seeing that gorgeous smile, decides to give into temptation for once. He pulls on Newt’s hand and the man scoots closer, then he leans in slowly, lifts his head, and sees how Newt’s eyes widen in belated realisation. Newt takes a few moments carefully coaxing the occamy off of Percival’s neck and setting her down lightly on the back of the sofa. He then slides a soft but rough hand up Percival’s exposed neck causing him to shiver, and curls it gently around his nape, tangles with his hair.

“Not appropriate, right?” Newt asks with a grin.

“I’ll make an exception for now,” Percival manages as casually as possible.

Then Newt’s other hand joins on the other side of Percival’s neck and draws him in as he leans down, eyes closing. And when their lips meet, Percival’s breath hitches, the soft yet firm press of Newt’s mouth against his own a shock to his core. He feels Newt smile against him before pulling away, and Percival lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he slowly opens his eyes. Newt’s smile is still there and he looks at Percival like he’s something utterly precious.

Hel barely has time to process their first kiss before Newt leans back in, tilting Percival’s head with a thumb to his jaw, and this time, they meet at an angle. Newt coaxes his lips open with firm presses and soft strokes along his neck, and Percival’s mouth falls slack in a helpless whimper, allowing Newt to deepen the kiss. It’s wetter, and Percival’s own hands come up to grab weakly at Newt’s arms because he can barely breathe through the headiness caused by the combination of overwhelming sensations and Newt’s scent, Newt’s _taste_. It’s absolutely intoxicating.

Newt’s hands don’t stay still throughout the kiss, an occasional light squeeze , thumbs caressing under his chin, and Percival feels unbelievably sensitive by the time they part again. If Newt hadn’t been holding on to him, he might have crumbled right then.

For the next few minutes, they simply breathe together, slowly calming down, and Percival finds it difficult to look Newt in the eye as he feels his lips tingling. Newt’s hands finally let go and Percival releases him, too, shivering again as his warmed skin is exposed to the cooler air.

“You’ve done this many times before, haven’t you,” Percival mock-accuses him once he’s no longer breathless.

“Maybe I’m just good with you,” Newt repeats Percival’s earlier words, and he can hear the man’s smile.

Percival sees Newt moving in and tenses in anticipation, but blinks up at him in confusion when all the man does is lean back again. There’s an unreadable expression on Newt’s features, and Percival lifts a brow in question but Newt only shakes his head, smiling once more.

Newt turns to the forgotten occamy and places her back on Percival's neck. “She’ll be good for you, I can tell,” he says. “She can also protect your neck from inappropriate people.”

Percival scoffs. “Like you?”

“I’m the exception, remember?”

“I said _for now_.”

He doesn’t expect the quick peck Newt gives him before standing up and _that_ of all things causes him to blush even though he had been fine before.

“Have a good day, Percival; I’ll see you at lunch!”

Once he’s alone, Percival contemplates taking a nap because he’s still tired and also because he needs to not think for a while. The whole morning had been one unexpected thing after another it’s not something his brain can work through at this moment.

The next thing he knows is that he's waking up, already lying down, and a blanket smelling faintly of Newt covering him. He curls it tighter around himself and falls back asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking I'm so close to the end and I just have a couple more loose ends to tie up but idk man these kids won't leave me alone. Hopefully I'll be done in maybe 2-3 chapters (again). I have the feeling I'll hit 20 chapters with this story.
> 
> I'm super thankful to all of you guys who totally made my weekend with your lovely comments. I'm happy you liked how the Reveal happened!
> 
> And shoutout to Spatzenhaus for the awkward supporting of Percival's alpha inclinations idea

With Newt having come off of his suppressants completely, it takes less than twenty-four hours for everyone at MACUSA to learn the truth about his alpha nature.

After Percival wakes up from his longer-than-intended nap, he goes through the reports that have been piled neatly already on his desk for the afternoon with a note from Fontaine and he tries not to think about the man seeing him passed out on the sofa like a child. He manages to read through two of them before deciding he needs some caffeine and a stretch so he leaves the office, noting Ms. Kett's absence. She must be away on lunch.

He enters the Investigations room, expecting everyone to be hard at work but isn’t surprised to find a group of them chatting while surrounding someone’s desk, and surprisingly Ms. Kett is with them. It’s Newt’s, he realises as he walks closer on his way to the lunch room.

“Director!” Senior Auror Johnson calls first when he see Percival. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Hey, boss, we just found out something shocking,” O'Brien adds excitedly.

“Wouldn’t he already know?” drawls Mathews. “He’s being courted by him, after all.”

Percival can guess what this is about, and doesn’t say anything that would hint at how clueless he had been until just this morning. He would be setting a bad example.

“I’m kind of surprised that you’re okay with it, actually,” says Johnson, “I thought you would’ve gone for a cute omega.”

Percival stiffens. It hadn’t occurred to him earlier how his courtship with Newt would be viewed as, now. They’re an alpha-alpha couple in everyone’s eyes, and while it’s not as uncommon as an omega-omega pair since it’s sometimes arranged for the purpose of a stronger alliance between households, it’s not usually a mating out of love.

“N-not that I’m judging or anything, sir. I know of a few alpha pairings myself and they make wonderful couples!” Johnson hastily explains.

“Auror Johnson, do kindly shut up, please,” Fontaine rebukes.

“But Newt’s still cute,” joins Abernathy, and Percival doesn’t like the way she eyes him with interest.

“No, he isn’t; he’s troublesome,” sighs Tina. “I’m not surprised he’s an alpha.”

“You’re just too stubborn, Tina,” Newt finally speaks up, looking put out.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Save-All-The-Creatures,” snorts Mathews.

“At least I’m not oblivious like all of you.”

A silence falls on the group, only broken by Ms. Kett’s very un-ladylike snort. Percival feels attacked as much as the rest of his aurors.

“Hey, boss, do you mind if we kill him?” O’Brien asks casually, cracking his knuckles.

Percival sighs, already tired after his nap. “Please refrain from dismembering my current intended, O’Brien.”

“But if he’s gone, I can have a chance, now that I know you’re receptive to alpha advances,” O’Brien responds, winking at him.

Percival stares at the auror in bewilderment.

“Percival, do you mind if I kill him?” Newt asks, glaring at O’Brien.

“Wow, looks like ‘little Newt’ has a violent alpha side to him after all,” Ms. Kett remarks.

Everyone stares at her incredulously, and she shrugs as if saying, “What?”

Percival concludes that Newt’s true gender doesn’t seem to shock anyone too much overall, because Newt was an unusual omega and now he’s an unusual alpha. And they had also casually accepted their changed dynamic. He’s rather surprised by his aurors’ ability to calmly adjust and adapt to abrupt change in information that they had thought to be true; either that or they had suspected since before.

It does make him wonder, very briefly, how they would react if they found out Percival’s true gender. It’s difficult to imagine because it’s one thing to have assumed wrong because the information had never been specified and another to have had it hidden intentionally.

Newt follows him when he continues onto the lunch room after dispersing the disruptive group, tagging along like a puppy. He hovers near Percival as he pours himself a cup of coffee and watches him drink it. Percival lifts a brow, and Newt just smiles, a slow curve of the lips that isn’t quite guileless.

And then Percival suddenly remembers the kiss in his office and he swallows too fast, the hot liquid burning down his throat while he fights against a blush.

“Careful,” Newt murmurs, wiping a thumb across Percival’s lower lip much to his mortification, “don’t want to burn yourself.”

Percival quickly looks around to make sure no one had seen that and hisses at Newt, “What are you doing? We’re in public!”

Newt looks like he doesn’t get why that matters, and it hits Percival once again how this man doesn’t have a clue about basic social etiquette.

“I have a lot of work to get done; I’ll talk to you later,” Percival excuses himself and walks away quickly.

 

 

By the end of the week, Percival admits that he has been avoiding Newt. No, not the actual man but the situation of being alone with him for too long. He feels something akin to being hunted sometimes in those brief moments, and he finds excuses to leave or bring someone else to join them.

Newt for his part, doesn’t notice or chooses not to say anything, and Percival is relieved. Not disappointed.

He hates what he’s doing because he enjoys his time with Newt, but after that day, he has become incredibly conscious of Newt’s height, his proximity, his posture, his _everything_. Newt doesn’t seem to be shy or careful around him anymore, either. Rather, he appears confident and bold. Too bold, in fact. He leans in too close, smiles too sweetly, touches him just enough to make him want more, like he’s seducing him.

And Merlin help him, he wants to be seduced. But that part of him is at war with another part that says he needs to be strong, still be the alpha everyone knows and expects him to be. But that resolve grows weaker when Newt manages to corner him in the office and kiss him breathless; their third kiss.

Percival becomes anxious, because he knows that he isn’t quite acting like himself and he can feel his aurors’ eyes on them, watching their interactions. He thinks they might find the truth of his nature on their own eventually and Percival’s afraid, yet he can’t bear to push Newt away.

His aurors also start asking when he plans to gift Newt in return to acknowledge the success of his courtship attempt. He thinks he ought to ban all of them from his office.

But truthfully, Percival can see himself engaged to Newt, possibly even mated to him if it were allowed. He also sees no children in their future, a better mate for Newt, the possibility of losing his job if the truth comes out as a result.

And he sees himself with no one else.

He can say with certainty that he likes Newt very much, is happy with him, and may possibly even love him. Newt has never given him any reason to doubt his affections, and it is with resignation that he admits all his anxieties have been born out of his own insecurities and flaws.

And Percival is sick of repeating this cycle, how every time things are going well he douses it with his miserable thoughts and assumptions.

He spends the following weekend remembering all the good moments he has shared with Newt, and they far outweigh the painful ones. He also blushes remembering the ones that had left him flustered and wanting more. More of what, exactly, he can’t say.

At some point, he gets a letter from Theseus who clearly makes fun of him because “I know my brother isn’t the most macho guy out there but _come on_ , Graves!” and he burns up the letter with his hand before sending a reply, telling him his beard makes him look like a graphorn’s distant relative and that there will be no tea for him the next time he visits.

Sunday evening, Percival enjoys a book and coffee in the living room, occasionally glancing at where his occamy is coiled on the armrest of his chair. He sees her blink prettily and chirp delicately, and the name Lady suddenly comes to mind. She’s always moving quite gracefully and her manners are befitting of the Director of Magical Security, if he does say so himself.

“Lady,” he calls out, and she responds to his voice, twisting her neck to look at him. He can’t help smiling at that and gives her a soft stroke, liking the way the name sounds. “Yes, Lady, that’s a good girl.”

He’ll have to ask Newt tomorrow how to train her so she doesn’t tense up and choke him accidentally since she does spend the majority of her time around his neck.

And tomorrow, he will present Newt with a gift. He will acknowledge the man’s efforts of courting him and show his willingness to stay with him. Percival’s smile grows as he tries to imagine what kind of face Newt might make.

 

 

Tomorrow turns into Tuesday which turns into Wednesday, then Thursday, and still it doesn’t happen. Percival’s excuse is that he needs to prepare more, his gifts being insufficient for what he has planned.

He finally asks Newt if he can see his niffler first thing on Friday, and they decide to go into the case during a lunch break. But then just as they are finishing their meals, Percival sees two little clawed feet slipping under his door and the both of them are immediately up and chasing down William (Bill for short, “because his mouth is like a duck's bill, get it?” Newt had been quite proud explaining the reason behind Bill’s name, and Percival just hadn’t had the heart to tell him that Bill was short for William regardless of whether one possessed a duck’s bill or not).

“How on earth did he get out?” Percival snarls as they see Bill scurrying around the corner towards the large room full of aurors. Surely one of them would be able to catch the slippery critter.

“I think I forgot to charm the lock today,” Newt replies apologetically as they dash down the hall together.

"You can’t be serious,” Percival groans. “Newt, you’ve been doing so well, too.”

They stop in the doorway to assess the situation. A quick glance at Newt shows the man slightly flushed. “I, er—I was distracted this morning.”

Whatever has got him flustered will have to hold for now. Percival sees Bill weaving through feet, tripping people, picking up and stuffing whatever he can into his pouch and thank Merlin, he runs straight into Tina who has the most experience out of his aurors with Newt’s creatures. She has him floating at the end of her wand by the time they reach her, and Newt snatches the niffler and proceeds to dump his stolen goods onto the floor.

Percival sends them all back to their rightful owner until only a single item is left on ground.

“There it is!” Newt exclaims suddenly, tossing Bill over his head at Percival.

Percival catches him, ignoring his squeaks of indignation and Lady hissing at him, and watches Newt’s back as he hunches over whatever he picked up off the floor, completely unaware of all the bewildered eyes on him.

“What’s that, Scamander?” asks Mathews who has come over to see the commotion.

Newt startles from his own world and turns red as he finally glances at everyone and notices their focus on him. “Oh, um, this is...” he stammers, as he closes his fingers over the object.

“Newt, was that—”

“Wait, Tina—” Newt pleads, looking at her.

Percival sees Tina’s face over Newt’s shoulder and she meets his eyes with wide ones briefly before nodding at Newt.

“—a, ah, I didn’t see it.”

Percival raises a disbelieving brow but Tina doesn’t return his gaze again.

“I did! It was a ring!” The voice belong to one of the young Junior Aurors, Kinney, and everyone turns to him as he looks proud of himself like he answered a question correctly. He shrinks back, however, when he notices multiple glares shot his way.

“A ring, you say?” Percival asks him, and Kinney seems to have realised his mistake.

“N-not at all, sir, just a slip of the tongue.” Kinney’s chuckle sounds forced.

Percival turns to where Newt still has his back turned, absently petting both Bill and Lady to calm them, and waits, his heart beating a little faster. Tina is looking back and forth between them, mouth opening and closing as if she isn’t sure what to say, and he’s very much aware of the others’ focus as well.

When Newt starts fidgeting, Percival inwardly sighs and takes pity.

“Aurors,” he addresses the room, “back to your desks and stations. I apologise for the commotion but everything is now under control. Nothing left to see here.”

Percival slowly eyes each of them and makes certain that they know he is serious, and watches with satisfaction as they start heading back. He nods at Tina before turning as well, heading back to his office.

He hears Newt’s footsteps follow him.

Back in the office, Newt stops him as soon as they are inside the door with a grip on his vest. He doesn’t look up at Percival, but there’s minute trembling in the hand that holds him.

Percival frowns, slightly concerned. “Newt?”

Newt takes Bill from his arm and grasps Percival's now unoccupied hand before placing an object in his palm.

Percival stares blankly at it, his heart nearly stopping at the implications.

A _ring_. The very symbol of promising forever and faithfulness, to be a constant, to be permanent. It’s an incredibly rare thing to give in the courtship stage, because usually no one is completely certain of their choice in a mate even right up until the mating itself unless everything had already been arranged. It’s the gift that no one gives unless they can swear on their own lives that their intended is the one for them, the only one they will love and cherish.

The craftsmanship is simple in its design, a black, square-cut stone in a silver band, clean with subtle curves. Percival’s hand shakes and his mouth goes dry.

“Newt,” he whispers hoarsely, because that’s all he can manage right now.

“I know we’ve been mainly keeping to ourselves with this courtship,” Newt starts shakily, “but now I want everyone to properly see how important you are to me and hold me accountable to it.”

There’s a slight pause but it feels much longer, and Percival thinks he can hear his own heart pounding.

“You’re also important to your aurors, so I’m confident that they’ll either hurt me very badly or bury me somewhere if I ever cause you harm or grief.”

Percival’s mouth moves before he can think. “Not if I get you first.”

And Newt laughs, a little wetly, and Percival’s throat tightens in sympathy. He still hasn’t looked up yet, because he’s pretty sure he will get emotional if he sees Newt’s face right now.

“Actually,” Percival tries after clearing his throat, closing his own shaking hand around the ring, “I have something—” and he waves his hand and brings Bill (who is clearly not impressed with all this back and forth) towards him.

Percival hushes the poor thing and cradles him, and with his other hand he reaches inside his pocket to pull out the objects. They’re little silver trinkets of various shapes, and as soon as Bill sees them, he squeaks and tries to reach for them with his claws. Percival hands them one by one to him and watches as the niffler stuffs them greedily into his pouch right down to the very last one. He then hands him over to Newt, finally looking up at the stunned man.

“They’re from the occamy’s eggshells, melted and reshaped,” he explains, pointedly ignoring Newt’s moist eyes and continuing before he loses his nerves. “I thought long and hard about how to respond to your gifts and it occurred to me that the way to a magizoologist’s heart is probably through his creatures. I have more for the others, of course, but I thought to start with the little thief—”

And he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Newt is suddenly grasping his head and pulling Percival up, crushing their mouths together in a hard kiss that has Percival’s eyes closing automatically with a gasp. His hands come up to hold onto Newt’s waist and he forgets everything as _his alpha_ presses kiss after kiss onto his mouth, lips sliding against one another’s almost frantically. At one point, Newt nips at his lower lip and sends a shiver up his spine, finally pulling a whine from his throat. Percival’s omega thrills at the intimacy between them and he breathes through his nose when his chest feels tight, melts at the scent that fills his senses.

Newt starts biting at his lip harder in response and it makes Percival cry out softly in pain before he manages to get away, panting, feeling like he’s about to faint. He gasps again when Newt tucks his face into the side of Percival’s neck, skims his nose lightly down the column before pulling away abruptly.

Percival sees that odd, unreadable expression again, and it barely distracts him enough from the heat building in his gut.

“What is it, Newt?” Percival asks a little breathlessly to his own embarrassment.

Newt shakes his head as if to clear it, a thumb absently caressing Percival’s warm cheek, and then he plasters a strange smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I got a little carried away. Are you hurt?”

The other thumb slides along Percival’s swollen lip and it makes him shiver, and Percival watches how Newt’s eyes darken.

Percival ducks away from the touches and lets go of Newt because it’s too dangerous, whatever this is, because no one had ever riled him up in this way before and it’s too much all at once. “I’m alright,” he mutters, then a bit more clearly, “I take it you like the gift, then.”

And Newt finally seems to come back to himself and smiles brightly. “Yes, that was wonderfully thoughtful and absolutely brilliant. Thank you, Percival.”

He then bows his head and Percival hears a sniffle before Newt nearly whispers, “Thank you for accepting me.”

Percival’s chest swells with so much affection and heartbreak for this man that he can hardly breathe, because in those quiet words he could hear the ache of loneliness that Newt had endured, the burden of being considered ‘different’ by others. It makes Percival reach out and pull the man to him, letting him rest his head on Percival’s shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist.

They stay like that until Newt stops shaking, and when he finally lifts his head, Percival doesn’t mention his red eyes. He just guides the man to the couch and sits them both down, then opens the hand that has been holding the ring. There is a dent in his palm from having gripped it too hard earlier.

Percival gives the ring to Newt and offers his right hand, fingers spread, and says, “Thank you for finding me.”

Newt smiles at him shakily and it’s the most beautiful one Percival has seen to date, one full of hope. The ring sliding onto his finger feels like the tangible promise it is and when he kisses Newt softly, feels that smile against his own, he remembers Eleanor’s question and thinks that maybe, just maybe he’s allowed to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ring Newt gave to Percival and he explained to him after the events of this chapter how onyx is for protection and chasing bad luck/vibes away:
> 
> http://www.stepheneinhorn.co.uk/inlaid-signet-ring-silver-onyx.asp?pc2=J1715


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you'll appreciate this chapter because I kind of hate myself for writing it but it wasn't going to happen without the angst you guys have been expecting soooooooooo...
> 
> Thank you as always for your support!! I'm confident I will be able to finish this story and possibly be invested in a couple timestamps afterwards.
> 
> We're almost there!!

Seraphina congratulates him with tears in her eyes when he goes to see her afterwards and it makes him want to twitch in discomfort to witness his strong friend show this much emotion on his behalf, but also smile at the touching display.

“He’s good for you, Percival,” she says again. “I’m glad you found someone like him.”

“Technically, Sera, he found me.”

His aurors also notice Percival’s ring right away; he would have been quite concerned if they didn’t. And although it makes him the focus of an uncomfortable amount of attention, hears whispers behind his back, he wears it to show off his status for Newt as much as for himself.

It doesn’t help that Newt won’t stop grinning like an absentminded fool, and that has his aurors smirking in amusement.

There is a single day in which no one says anything about it, and then with all the subtlety of a frightened occamy in a china shop, O’Brien exclaims, “Congratulations on your engagement, boss!” when Percival comes into work Monday morning. Then it’s like a floodgate has opened because the rest immediately crowd around him before he makes it to his office, offering similar congratulatory words and _patting his back_. Percival endures it all with gritted teeth and ignores the horrifying sight of some of his aurors crying.

He eventually catches sight of Newt beyond the crowd, smiling in that fond way of his, and turns away in embarrassment.

“Thank you, everyone,” he finally manages when the noise has died down, and in a fit of honesty, adds, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d all be so accepting.”

Fontaine speaks up. “We’d have to be blind not to see how happy makes you, sir. And we all know that you of all people deserve this the most.”

Percival doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and nods.

They arbitrarily decide to celebrate on their own so at lunchtime, some of them go out to buy cakes for the department and they pass around slices of them for dessert and although Percival sees them using the so-called ‘celebration’ to goof off, he lets it be for once.

He’s exhausted by the end of the day after having to deal with people constantly coming up to him to offer more personal congratulatory words (and even one or two belated confessions besides O’Brien, Mercy Lewis), and he almost doesn’t want to let the person knocking on his door inside.

It’s Newt who pops his head through the door, and Percival realises that the man had been scarce all day. He closes the door behind him and walks up to Percival, goes around the desk, and rudely sits on one corner of it, facing him. Percival frowns and contemplates kicking him off.

“How are you?” Newt asks, a soft smile on his face.

Percival sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Tired.”

“It was nice to see how much they like you, but now they can’t flirt with you anymore.”

Percival looks up at him, confused. “What are you talking about? Who flirts with me?”

And then it’s Newt’s turn to look bewildered. “Um, all of them?”

This man is insane, Percival decides, seeing things that don’t even exist.

“I suspected you wouldn’t have noticed,” Newt sighs, “But I guess that’s good for me.”

“If you’re talking about O’Brien—”

“They _all_ know how good you are, Percival,” Newt interrupts, looking uncharacteristically serious. “They know what you’re worth but in all the years they had with you, they never pursued you and now, it’s their loss. Now, you’re _mine_.”

There’s something possessive yet reverent in Newt’s tone when he says those last two words that it makes his heart quiver and his insides melt, and he has to look away lest his omega reacts.

Newt “No Shame” Scamander leans down towards him and asks wordlessly, but Percival can’t raise his head at the moment, breathing through the urge to bare his throat. His breath catches when a finger trails the patch of skin uncovered by Lady when she moves her head to avoid Newt.

“I’ll kill you if you do this kind of thing in front of the others,” Percival grits through his teeth.

Newt laughs. “No worries. The ring should be enough to show them how loved you are.”

Percival’s about to snap at him but then the words penetrate fully. “Love?” his voice breaks on the syllable.

“Well, yes,” Newt replies, frowning. “Isn’t it obvious?”

In _theory_ , it’s obvious to Percival. Newt has proven many times over with words and actions that Percival is important to the man and he understands the implications. _In theory_. It’s a whole other thing to hear it out loud.

Although his face is too hot, he doesn’t resist when Newt turns his head back to him and tips his chin up, accepts the light kiss. He sighs, thinks that he might like kissing Newt very much. It’s something that can be light-hearted or intimate, and at the same time, non-sexual.

“I—” Percival tries after the kiss ends, but the words get caught in his throat. “I as well—towards you—I feel—”

Newt saves him from further stammering with another kiss. “I know.”

The man grins victoriously as if he has won something and Percival can’t help but smile in return.

And then he ends up kicking Newt out of the office for being too much of a distraction because he still has work to do.

 

 

“Newt.”

It’s a rare evening where both of them are alone in Percival’s office after everyone has gone home, hard at work with their respective assignments. But Percival has been distracted for a while now.

He had written a letter to his family to inform them of his engagement and they had asked him to come home so they could celebrate together. The reply had arrived a few days ago, saying they were fine with Newt being an alpha and his mother had specifically mentioned how good he must be to care for Percival even without the prospect of children.

His vision had tunnelled, an intense chill washing over him that it had left him breathless. His head had spun so hard and so suddenly when he read that line that he had nearly collapsed onto the floor of his living room. Only Lady's chirping had brought him back to reality and Percival spent a long time on the ground with his back against a wall and his head buried into his knees.

He had known his infertility was an issue that he would have to face eventually, but he had been in a state of wonderful bliss these past couple weeks that he had not wanted to think about it. Until this reminder.

Theseus had also sent a letter addressed to both of them, congratulating them, asking about when the mating ceremony might take place, as well as jokingly adding when he will get to see his nieces and nephews. Newt had been too busy blushing and spluttering excuses for his stupid brother to see the blood draining from Percival’s face and notice his shaking hands.

He knows that Newt loves him and that he would be kind enough to go through with this engagement until the mating. On the other hand, it pains Percival to not be able to offer even that choice to him. All alphas have the basic desire to leave their legacy behind through offspring, to continue their bloodline. He can’t imagine Newt would be much different despite his atypical traits because this is the very foundation of an alpha's instincts.

Percival doesn’t cry but he despairs silently and feels a heavy burden on his heart to have to share his inability to bear Newt a child. He knows that his worth isn’t solely based on whether he can have children or not; he really does. There are people who show him everyday that he's good at his job, that what he does is worthwhile and meaningful. But he thinks it would almost be worth it to would tell his aurors that he’s an omega and accept the consequences if he could have a healthy, functioning womb.

He doesn’t realise Newt calling his name until the man is in front of him, sitting on his desk, holding his face. His alpha looks concerned and Percival curses himself for having zoned out. He wants to broach this topic calmly and rationally, be prepared to accept whatever the outcome even if that might mean letting Newt go. Percival has already received so much from him so he won’t ask this of him as well.

Percival clears his throat. “Apologies. I wanted to ask something and got distracted,” he says as calmly as he can.

Newt looks at him sceptically and Percival would laugh at seeing such a foreign expression on his face if he didn’t feel like he's walking headfirst into his own ruin. Percival silently asks for a kiss and Newt responds sweetly, and he draws strength from it.

“What do you think about having children?” Percival finally asks, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

Newt's eyes widen and his mouth falls open, and his fingers twitch before dropping away from Percival's face in shock. Percival’s left hand instinctively shoots out to grasp one of Newt’s because he doesn’t think he can finish this conversation without some sort of grounding contact and the man just looks down at their joined hands while steadily turning red.

“I-I, well. Oh dear. I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” Newt stammers, and Percival’s heart clenches. “I mean, we’ve only started k-kissing and such. Maybe w-we should take it slow? If that’s alright with you?”

Percival doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry at Newt completely missing the point and sparing him some time or delaying the inevitable.

“Newt,” says Percival, a little strained, “I don’t mean right now, not immediately. I mean... for our future.”

Newt slumps in relief, loosening the nearly painful grip he had on Percival’s fingers. “Oh, I see. I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” he says and reddens again at the admittance. “I’m already a mum to these guys and have my hands full, but...”

Percival holds his breath unknowingly.

“But, ah...” Newt continues, looking up at Percival through his lashes shyly, “I wouldn’t mind having a family with you.”

Percival releases that breath harshly and covers his eyes, having confirmed Newt’s desires. His throat locks up and his chest twists painfully, and he still hasn’t even gotten to the hard part yet.

“Percival?” Newt calls gently, worry apparent in his voice.

He swallows a few times before he can speak again. “What if—” and he pauses, takes a deep breath. “What if we can’t?” It comes out faintly because he’s too afraid to say it any louder.

“What?” Newt asks, confused. “What do you mean?”

And Percival can’t take it anymore and drops Newt’s hand, stands up abruptly, startling the man.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, looking into Newt’s wide eyes, unable to control his expression. “I need some fresh air; we’ll continue this when I get back.”

“Percival, wait—”

But Percival ignores him and walks quickly out of his office, hoping Newt won’t follow him, doesn’t stop until he reaches an apparition point and leaves the building.

 

 

He doesn’t know how long he has been roaming the streets, can barely spare a thought for Newt who must be worried by now. He has already berated himself numerous times for failing to finish the conversation rationally like he had planned, and now his emotions have gotten the better of him so he is unable to muster up the courage to go back.

“Oh!” someone exclaims, and Percival looks up automatically.

It’s Queenie Goldstein.

Percival tenses, only relaxing slightly when he remembers that his shields are in place. He then takes in her presence, hardly able to believe she is standing in front of him. In light of recent events, he had completely forgotten about her.

“Good evening, Mr. Graves,” she hesitantly offers while watching him warily.

“Evening, Ms. Goldstein—ah, Kowalski now, isn’t it,” Percival returns, guilty that he might be upsetting her. “I don’t mean any harm. I was just—”

And he can’t continue, because he remembers why he is here, wandering like a lost child because he _is_ one, in essence.

“You can call me Queenie, Mr. Graves,” her soothing and melodious voice says, and she’s smiling at him.

“Alright,” he acknowledges numbly. “I must be going now. I wish you a good night, Queenie—“

“Wait, Mr. Graves!” she calls as he’s turning away.

Percival doesn’t want to wait. He is not wanting any company at the moment, but then he thinks about how she has been waiting for him. She had invited him and he had asked for time, and she hadn’t asked since. He thinks it would be very rude of him to deny her again.

“If you aren’t in any rush, would you like to join me for coffee?”

 

 

Queenie lives in a quaint little apartment two blocks down from Mr. Kowalski’s bakery. It’s already a home, smelling of home-cooking and baked goods, decorated with seemingly mismatched yet complementary furniture. She explains that her mate is out on a few errands for his business and whether it’s coincidence or not, Percival’s glad he doesn’t have to meet the man right now.

He wonders briefly if Tina is lonely since her sister has moved out of their shared home and feels a pang of sympathy.

A cup of aromatic coffee floats over to where Percival is seated at a dining table and he glances at Queenie who is still in the kitchen.

His heart stops.

From his position, he sees her profile as she prepares something at the kitchen counter, and though she is still a slender woman, there is an unusual protrusion in the stomach area. It could just be weight gain, he tries to tell himself, that her new mated life is well-suited for her. But instinctively he know that’s not the case.

Queenie turns then, and her soft smile that she had been wearing all this time falls when she sees him.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asks as she brings her own cup of coffee and a plate of small cake squares.

Percival forces his eyes away from the bump and nods. “Ah, yes, thank you for the coffee. And congratulations on your mating, though it is a bit late.” Then after a beat, “Are you expecting?”

He watches as another smile glows on her face.

“Yes, we are! Thank you, honey!” she says appreciatively as she sits down across from him. “I need to congratulate you and Newt as well. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

She ends on a sadder note, and though he’s sure she doesn’t mean to make him feel guilty about that, he feels it slightly nonetheless.

“How do you plan on taking care of yourself?” he asks instead. “It will be dangerous when people start asking questions.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Queenie confirms, rubbing a hand gently over her stomach, and Percival tries not to resent what she is able to do. “I’ll be quitting my job at MACUSA and helping out my husband with his shop instead.”

Percival looks at her in shock. “Are you cutting your ties with the wizarding community?”

Queenie’s smile turns wistful, and she replies, “Yes and no. I’ll still have Tina and Newt, and all the other sweethearts who have become regulars at Jacob’s bakery. But I’ll no longer be using my legilimency for the government and any other magic will be limited to the privacy of our home.”

Percival doesn’t know how he’s sitting here calmly as she talks about her very much illegal plans for her future. He ought to tell her to stop this madness, that she shouldn’t be revealing herself so freely to him, that he is still the Director who upholds laws.

Instead, he says, “You are doing us a great disservice, Queenie, and I hope Mr. Kowalski knows he’s taking one of our best employees from us. You will be missed.”

Queenie seems stunned by his words, and he’s horrified as her eyes fill with tears and she does nothing to stop them. He doesn’t know what to do as she starts crying quietly into her hands and he takes a sip from his cup for lack of anything better to do than watch her cry.

“That’s so kind of you, Mr. Graves,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry again for before and thank you. You saved us, Jacob and I.”

Percival just nods even though she isn’t looking, and waits patiently for her to calm down.

“You might think me crazy, Mr. Graves,” she says after drinking some of her own coffee, “but when you love someone, having them by your side can be worth any pain or suffering that might come your way.”

And Percival doesn’t say anything to that, but he understands a little what she means. He thinks of Newt again, wonders if it’s better to have Newt by his side knowing that he can never give his alpha what he wants, or to bear the pain of losing him knowing that he can be truly happy with someone else. He doesn’t like either choice, and it disheartens him that he is in this position.

“—Graves? Mr. Graves?”

Percival’s head snaps up from where he had been glaring at the table unconsciously, and meets Queenie’s solemn expression.

“What were you doing out there on the streets, honey?” she asks knowingly.

It’s none of her business, Percival thinks. She’s in a happy household with a loving husband and expecting a child. She wouldn’t understand Percival’s suffering. But Percival is tired and unbearably lonely right now after hours of fearing the probable loss of a wonderful man yet aching for him fiercely. He wishes Newt was here.

So Percival turns away and lets his shields down a little, shares what he feels comfortable sharing. And it’s nice in a way that he doesn’t have to try to articulate what is a jumbled mess of anxiety and anger and sadness.

He hears Queenie gasp, hears her crying again and feels his eyes sting. But he holds himself back as she cries for him, feels a small portion of the burden lift from his heart.

“You know, Newt wants you in any way he can have you,” she says later, sniffling.

Percival doesn’t know how they ended up on her couch, coffee forgotten, sitting next to each other with her head on his shoulder. She’s a comforting warmth that he didn’t know he needed.

“I know,” he replies, sighing. “That’s why it’s worse.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Mr. Graves,” Queenie scolds, surprisingly forceful. “Newt wants you because you like him for who he is, and that’s exactly what that poor boy has needed all his life. You give him exactly what he needs. Everything else is just a bonus.”

“Aren’t you quite the expert, Mrs. Kowalski,” Percival mutters.

“Well, his occlumency isn’t quite as good as yours, honey,” she giggles. “Then again, no one really comes close to you in that regard.”

“Do you see him often?” Percival asks.

“Not as much as before,” she replies sadly. “He doesn’t come by too much because he doesn’t want to upset you with his law-breaking. He wants to be someone you can trust and rely on.”

Percival’s breath comes out in a shudder. “I’m not sure I should be hearing all this.”

“I only say what’s necessary,” Queenie returns easily. “Besides, you men sometimes repress your feelings so much that someone else needs to spell it out for you.”

He glares at Queenie but all he can see is the top of her head, damn this woman. But then she shifts and she’s smiling up at him.

“Wow, you have such nice hair, sweetie,” she observes. “Can I braid it?”

 _Merlin_. “No.”

 

 

When Percival finally returns to his office, it’s to the sight of Newt curled up on the sofa, face slack with sleep. He doesn’t know if Newt had tried to look for him or had waited here all this time, but he’s _here_ and Percival wants to pull him into his arms and comfort himself with Newt’s scent. As he gets closer, it’s with a pang that he notices the dried up tear tracks on Newt’s face. He must have fallen asleep crying not too long ago.

Percival sits down on the floor next to him, and startles when Newt’s eyes suddenly blink open.

“Percival?” Newt croaks disbelievingly, blinking away sleep rapidly before staring in shock.

“I’m here, Newt,” Percival apologises, leaning in and scenting his alpha.

Newt scrambles up and his hands reach out to hold his face, stroking his cheeks and combing through his hair a little frantically. Percival closes eyes and lets himself purr, lets himself melt just a little. He sighs in contentment, happy to be back with his alpha.

“I—” Newt starts, then like a broken dam words spill out of him. “I didn’t want to bother you so I waited, but even though I kept waiting you wouldn’t come back and I didn’t know where to look for you and—”

The sentence breaks on a sob and Percival opens his eyes to look up at Newt and sees tears falling.

“I couldn’t _smell_ you because—because you don’t have one and there’s no scent in here but I thought maybe if I looked I’d be able to find _something_ and know that it’s you but there wasn’t and—”

And Percival can’t bear to hear anymore and he surges up and crushes Newt into a hug, holds the man to his chest and apologises over and over again into his hair as Newt clutches at him desperately. Percival spills a few tears of his own, guilty that he had never realised, _not once_ , that because of his suppressants he had no scent for his alpha.

Newt had never asked. Percival recalls each time Newt had looked at him with that unreadable expression, but he would always smile again and say it’s nothing. Even suffering like this, Newt respects Percival’s decision to remain hidden and this is completely unfair to him. That only Percival gets to be happy and comforted by Newt’s scent. He has been such a _fool_.

Percival allows Newt to pull him into his lap and bury his face in his shoulder, sniff along his neck like he can imagine Percival’s scent. He whines brokenly because there is nothing for him, and Percival holds him closer and shushes him, presses kisses into his hair. He gently wipes the slowing tears from Newt’s face and cleans his running nose, kisses him softly and whispers more apologies into his mouth.

And Percival decides, right then and there, that unless Newt tells him to leave, he will stay with him and spend the rest of his life making him happy, erase all the suffering he has caused.

Tomorrow, they will talk. A part of Percival is still afraid, but now he knows better, knows that Newt deserves better. And though he is ashamed that he had told himself the same thing mere months ago and has already made another mistake, as long as Newt is willing to give him the chance, he will keep trying.

Tomorrow, they will talk, but for now Percival kisses his alpha and comforts him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end! So close, yet so far. I am most likely hitting 20 chapters with this.
> 
> Thank you all for your support as always!

Percival spends the night in Newt’s suitcase.

They don’t sleep much, just hold each other and breathe in sync, sharing an occasional kiss to reassure one another. Newt had held onto him so tightly the first couple hours as if Percival might disappear if he lets go and Percival had said nothing, only waited until his alpha gradually relaxed. Then in the morning, as the sun rises, they apparate together to Percival’s house and they sit together on his couch after a simple breakfast.

Percival explains like he’s reciting clinical information how something had went wrong after his last heat and that he is no longer able to bear any children. And Newt cries for Percival, not for himself and his loss of a chance for offspring. He cries for Percival’s pain and the fear and anxiety that it had caused him and Percival loves him so, so much. He breathes the words against Newt’s lips and Newt whispers them back to him and Percival experiences redemption.

“To be honest,” Newt sniffs after he has calmed down, “I’m more upset that you don’t get to have what you want. I’m happy as long as I have you.”

And it breaks Percival because Newt—wonderful, sweet Newt—gets it, and his heart crumbles, finally able to finish grieving for what he had initially thought he already accepted. He tells Newt through tears that he can’t hold back that he had wanted them, that he had always secretly hoped he would be able to someday despite his career and he hadn’t been prepared for that to be abruptly taken away from him without his consent.

Newt offers him no other words, only his arms and his scent and Percival feels like he’s drowning yet is grounded by his alpha's steadiness and unwavering strength. Newt holds him and lets him cry and Percival thanks whoever allowed this man to come into his life.

They remain that way until there is nothing left and they're both quiet, still holding onto each other. Then Newt coaxes him to lay down and rest, and in a few minutes Percival starts to doze off with his head in Newt's lap, completely drained after all the energy it had taken to weep all his sorrow. His eyes are sticky, his head hurts and his throat clicks when he swallows, and Newt doesn’t get up to fetch water that Percival needs, doesn’t even turn his focus away to use magic because his alpha knows he cannot be left alone right now. Percival feels empty and scraped raw, but also like a great burden has been lifted off him.

Newt makes soft, soothing noises and massages his temple, brushes his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. Percival thinks numbly that it might be time to cut it all off again.

“You can go to sleep,” Newt croons. “l’ll wake you up for lunch.”

Percival blinks heavily, the wall he’s staring at starting to blur. “You should get some sleep, too,” he barely manages.

“Maybe after I get to stare at you for a while without creeping you out,” Newt replies quite seriously, and Percival snorts.

“Stare all you like, Mr. Scamander.”

Percival falls asleep to the sound of Newt’s laughter.

 

 

Percival wakes up light-hearted and refreshed, a little stiff as well due to his clothes. He also wakes up to a kiss Newt immediately presses to his lips even before he opens his eyes and it makes him smile. Newt then helps him up and drink some water to quench his parched throat.

“How about we change and get something to eat?” Newt suggests, and Percival agrees.

He watches Newt climb down into his case before heading upstairs into his own room, and once the door is shut behind him, Percival slides his back down the door and sits against it. He sighs, and is surprised by the sudden tears that fall. He wipes them away, annoyed, and they stop soon enough. Probably residual tears from earlier.

Percival smiles to himself despite the emotional storm he has just experienced because he’s safe in his house and his alpha is here with him and he anticipates this becoming a permanence in his life as he moves forward. He decides to ask Newt about moving in with him when he sees him again, and feels tentatively hopeful about making this place into a home.

He imagines this room filled with both his and Newt’s scents, completely mingling with one another and creating a unique mixture that would be purely them. He gets up and makes his way to his bed that has always been much too large for him alone and imagines the same except smelling even stronger of them. Then he blushes thinking about why that would be.

He removes his clothes and lays them on the bed, then heads for the dresser while he thinks about what he needs to do for that to happen, how he needs to provide his own scent. Which means no more suppressants.

Percival waits for the panic to set in, for his breathing to quicken in anxiety, but nothing happens. The prospect isn’t as frightening as he had expected. He’s certain that he would have had a very different reaction if this had been before he met Newt. But now, he feels confident enough to face any possible problem that might arise as a result of coming off of his suppressants.

At this point, his aurors should be fine with him regardless of his gender. He has more than proven his credibility and capability as the Director of Magical Security. He’s more worried about how they will react to the fact that he has been keeping this as a secret from them after the hard time he put them through for having done the same. Will this even the score between them or is Percival at greater fault because of his hypocrisy and how long he has kept it?

Perhaps he isn’t giving his aurors enough credit. They had told him personally that he deserves being happy with Newt, and freely being an omega in public with his alpha is part of it for him. He’s quite certain they had been sincere and so they may not be too offended considering all that has happened in the past year.

There is only one way to know for sure.

Percival laughs quietly because he’s standing almost naked in his bedroom giving himself encouraging talks about how to approach his issues and it feels ridiculous. He turns to change into his new clothing but catches himself in the mirror on the opposite wall and stops.

He skims a hand down his stomach, feels a slight ache in his chest knowing that it will never swell with a child. But it’s no longer a festering pain and he's okay with that because it’s a start. This will be a wound that he will always carry but time will allow it to scar over.

Speaking of scars, he also pokes at a couple of them on his arms. Percival had always worn his scars with a subtle kind of pride, physical proofs that he can handle dangerous situations and be strong enough to survive them. But now they make him wonder if Newt would find him attractive with all sorts of them littering his body. Percival is definitely far from the ideal image of an omega.

Well, he supposes there’s only one way to find that out, too.

When Percival comes back down, face washed and shaved, teeth brushed and hair tied up again, Newt is nowhere to be found. He decides to wait while brewing some coffee.

It isn’t too long before he feels arms sliding around his waist from behind and he stiffens as Newt plasters himself to Percival and the man is a long line of heat along his back.

“You look comfortable,” Newt sighs against his nape, raising the hairs on it. “I like it.”

Percival is only wearing a soft, white shirt that he prefers to be in when resting and a pair of worn sleep pants, a contrast to the layers upon layers he wears for his work. He realises Newt must be the first person to see him this way apart from Seraphina and his family, and he’s inwardly amazed at how much of him his alpha has seen in only over a year.

He relaxes and leans back into the man and Newt snuggles closer in response. Percival smiles; definitely a puppy.

Newt has only removed his vest and tie, unbuttoned his shirt’s collar and rolled up his sleeves. But even this gives his alpha a much more casual look and Percival can’t say he minds at all. Newt spots the tiny braid in Percival’s hair while he pours himself a cup and he explains how he had met Queenie, how he had found comfort in her presence as a fellow omega and had been inspired by her strength to choose Jacob.

“She was pregnant,” Percival says indifferently, and feels Newt tighten his hold. “I think I hated her briefly for that.”

And then Percival tells him that he chooses Newt for the rest of their lives if the man will have him and grins when Newt cries again into his shoulder, this time tears of joy. It gives Percival peace in his heart, knowing that he has made the right decision.

When Newt tries to apologise for complaining about Percival’s lack of scent, Percival hears nothing of it and apologises in return for not noticing sooner and putting his alpha through a hard time.

By the end, they both agree to work on improving their communication skills.

Percival is glad it’s the weekend because he can’t imagine having the strength to face a work day after all that he and Newt have gone through in the last twenty-four hours. He can’t help but gaze fondly as Newt settles onto one of the couches and plays with Lady and Pickett after lunch. He looks like he fits in perfectly even though it’s Newt’s first time here and his omega feels content.

“Newt,” he calls from the doorway while absently petting Dougal, “would you like to move in with me?”

Percival walks over to them as Newt slowly turns his head towards him, eyes widening in disbelief.

“S-sorry,” Newt stammers, “I’m not sure I heard that correctly.”

“Yes, you did,” Percival drawls, smirking in amusement.

Newt looks up at him in that shy way of his and Percival can’t resist the urge to pet his hair.

“Are you sure?” Newt asks hesitantly yet hopefully.

“What do you think, alpha?” Percival teases, and enjoys the way Newt flushes faintly.

“I suppose it’d be rude not to accept such an invitation,” Newt replies, smiling.

“Good. That would’ve been your only chance.”

“No way!” Newt exclaims, face falling. “What if I had declined out of respect?”

Percival shrugs. “It would’ve been your loss.”

Percival doesn’t know where this is coming from, this desire to tease Newt (who makes it too easy), to enjoy some light-hearted bantering with him, but he feels free in a way he never has before and he no longer needs to hold himself back or stay put together.

He gives Newt one last pat and allows Dougal to lead him to the other couch to sit down. The demiguise climbs into his lap and Percival pretends to focus on him, but glances sneakily to where Newt has turned back to Lady and Pickett, sulking. Percival hides a smile in Dougal’s fur.

They feed the creatures together in the late afternoon and Bill tries to swipe Percival’s ring but stops when he sees Newt’s stern expression. Bill burrows himself into Percival’s arms and stays there.

“Is your mummy bullying you, Bill?” Percival asks with a completely straight face and struggles not to laugh when he sees Newt’s jaw drop.

“I'm not bullying him!” Newt splutters indignantly. “He needs to learn to keep his paws off things that don't belong to him. Especially _that_.”

When Percival only stares impassively, his alpha pouts and Percival is unable to resist kissing it away like he had always wanted to whenever he had seen it before. He has to cut it short, unfortunately, when the niffler indeed makes off with the ring and they have to chase him down and give him a good scolding.

Later at night, Newt opts to stay downstairs on the sofa to sleep, says that he wants to respect Percival’s boundaries. Even though Percival wants to ask Newt to join him, he respects the man’s decision and bids him goodnight after giving him extra blankets before heading up to bed. He ends up tossing and turning, already missing his alpha’s scent, and greets the morning not having slept much.

Neither mention each other’s grogginess and tired eyes when they see each other, but when Percival asks, “Join me tonight?”, Newt replies quietly, as if ashamed, “Okay.”

They start the day with having breakfast outside at a café and taking a walk through the park where they had met (one-sidedly) for the second time. The weather is on the cusp of summer, bright and sunny and hot. Percival slightly regrets wearing his regular suit, but he would never have gone outside in his comfortable clothes, much to Newt’s disappointment.

When they get back, Newt ushers him to change again. His face brightens as he watches Percival come back down the stairs in his soft shirt and pants, and Percival correctly assumes that his alpha seems to like seeing him comfortable.

Percival stays close to Newt as much as possible even when they’re in the same space because he had noticed Newt’s eyes on him constantly throughout yesterday and today. He believes it’s an unconscious response to how much Percival had frightened him with his vanishing act last time, and he doesn’t blame the man. Instead, he maintains some sort of contact frequently and kisses Newt over and over again. It feels rather liberating to be able to dote on his alpha in this way in the privacy of his house.

Newt appreciates it a lot and smiles nonstop.

And later when they’re in Percival’s bed together, with Newt having changed into borrowed clothing, his alpha stares at him like he’s processing all over again that Percival is here with him. They aren’t touching, not quite ready to do so in this setting for some reason, but they are content to simply look at each other.

“I’m going to stop taking suppressants,” Percival says quietly into the space between them.

Newt’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything, only waits, and Percival is grateful.

“I don’t feel the need to hide myself anymore,” Percival continues. “My aurors know and trust me, and it isn’t fair to continue deceiving them, nor is it fair to myself to not show them who I truly am. That even though I am an omega, I am more than what little others expect of me.”

He takes a breath before continuing. “There are those who are perfectly content with marrying young and raising a family which is fine, but that’s not for me and everyone should know that genders don’t always matter when it comes to how much someone can accomplish.

“And—” Percival looks away briefly, takes another breath. “I want you to know what I smell like.”

When he glances back, Newt is looking at him with such obvious pride and adoration, it makes Percival flush. But it also pleases his omega to be appreciated so.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Newt blurts out, then looks surprised that he said it out loud.

“Newt—”

“Not that I’m saying I will or that you should let me, but. Just—just saying.”

“Okay.”

“Okay—wait, okay?”

“No. I meant ‘okay’ as in I understand.” Then Percival chuckles because Newt had seemed almost scared to be given permission and now he looks relieved yet disappointed. “I appreciate the sentiment, however.”

Newt groans, blushing. “That was dangerous. But anyway, I think we should, uh, after mating. Officially. If that’s alright with you.”

“Whatever you say, alpha,” and Newt rumbles happily at that.

Percival is happy, too, and he falls asleep with the scent of his alpha surrounding him.

 

 

In the morning, Percival sits across from Newt at his dining table and he eyes the small pills in front of him. They’re both dressed and ready for work, have just finished eating. Newt doesn’t say anything, simply watches him, and it’s good because he may not be able to go through with this if the man says anything along the lines of it being okay for him not to do this.

He swallows thickly, and with a wave of his hand, the pills disappear. It isn’t the end, he thinks, because he still has access to more of them through Eleanor, but this is the first step for him in order to see if he is able to resist them by his own will.

Newt speaks up. “Percival, can we not go into work today?”

Percival is so caught off guard by the question, he forgets to feel anxious about what he has just done. “Excuse me?”

Newt fidgets and doesn’t look at him. “I mean, well, I’d really like to be the first one to scent you, and there are so many people at work and I’m not with you all the time. I just. Want to be first.”

“You must be joking,” Percival questions incredulously.

“Well, no, I’m quite serious,” Newt replies, frowning.

“Newt, I’ve only stopped for _one day_. I’ve been on them for so long, even _I_ don’t know when my scent will return. You can’t possibly expect me to not work for an indefinite amount of time.”

“Isn’t there a way to find out?” Newt nearly demands. “Wouldn’t the healers be able to help predict when you’ll have your scent again?”

Percival is baffled. After all that they have been through this past weekend, overcoming obstacles and dealing with misunderstanding and heartaches, _this_ is what they are arguing about. It’s not that he doesn’t understand Newt; after having come this far in their relationship without any scent available from Percival, of course he would want to be able to have the first sniff. He is simply asking for something unrealistic, however.

“Newt, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I? Am I being ridiculous?” and now Newt has a determined, stubborn expression on his face.

Mercy Lewis.

“We can try our best,” Percival concedes. “I can ask the healers and we can spend as much time together as possible and I can take care to not be near others any closer than necessary. _But_ —” and he glares to stop Newt’s words, “this is something out of our control. I cannot magically have my scent appear when you happen to be the only one around, and even if someone else happens to smell me first, that doesn’t mean I have to confirm for them that it’s mine.”

Percival knows he has won because Newt doesn’t say anything even though he seems to have more words. His logic is sound.

Newt mumbles something at the table, seemingly disgruntled, and it makes Percival sigh. His alpha can be such a child sometimes.

Percival stands up and walks over to him, waits for him to look up before kissing him. He sits himself on the corner of the table (a terrible thing he picked up from Newt) and brushes his fingers through the man’s hair, making him rumble in pleasure.

“Think of it this way,” he explains, “you’re the only one who will have direct access to my scent, straight from the source. And as soon as you recognise my scent, I’ll let you smell all you want, in private.” Then adds belatedly, “For half an hour.”

Newt’s frown is looking more like a pout. “Why only half an hour?”

“In the case of it happening at work,” Percival replies smoothly.

“And if it happens here?” Newt asks, a little excitedly.

“If _that’s_ the case...” and Percival leans down again to kiss that hopeful look. “... you’ll just have to wait and see. Be a good little alpha, Newt.”

And with that, he leaves Newt scrambling up after him as he walks out of the kitchen and straight out the door to work.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovelies. This is a 'calm before the not-really-a-storm' chapter. I actually don't know where all these scenes came from, to be honest, but it transitions nicely into what will happen with all the coming out stuff.
> 
> And this update came later than my usual pace because work is getting busier, unfortunately, which has left me too tired to write afterwards :( I also have some things going on this weekend so there may not be another update until Sunday, EST.
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely words! You guys are too sweet it warms the depths of my frozen heart.
> 
> Also when did I reach 50k words holy crap

Percival makes an appointment with his healer as soon as he can at Newt’s insistence.

Eleanor is delighted to hear that Percival won’t be renewing his supply anymore when she sees him on the Tuesday. She isn’t obvious about it, being a professional, but she gives Percival this look and he gets the vague feeling of approval from her. She doesn’t ask about the reason behind this decision and he doesn’t really offer, but they’re okay with that.

He asks if it’s possible to know when all the effects of the suppressants will disappear and allow his scent to return as she casts her diagnostic spells.

“Naturally, no, it isn’t,” she replies. “I would only be able to tell you when all of the chemicals have left your body but it’s up to the body itself to return to its natural state at its own pace. There are those who have asked for inducers because they didn’t want to wait for their heat—” and she gracefully ignores Percival’s involuntary flinch, “—but it isn’t recommended, especially for long-term users such as yourself. We are uncertain as to what kind of side effects may occur.”

Percival nods, swallowing. He doesn’t need this to be ruined as well.

When he tells Newt how his appointment went, the man goes quiet and sombre, an apology quickly on his lips.

“It’s alright, Newt,” Percival reassures. “I’m a little impatient as well, but we can wait together.”

And so, nothing happens in the first week.

It gives Percival time to adjust to being at work and amongst his aurors without having taken any pills. Their lack of a reaction gives him peace of mind for now.

What they do notice, however, is that Newt leaves with him when their work is done or stays with him when he needs to work overtime. They haven’t suspected that it’s because they go home to the same place at the end of the day and that they’re waiting for a certain sign, but...

“It’s pretty cute,” Abernathy remarks, expressionless as usual. “Like he can’t get enough of our Director.”

Percival ignores what she says for his own sanity. He's with some of his aurors for lunch which is becoming commonplace, occurring at least once a week.

Newt is currently out on the field with Tina gathering evidence to prove that the recent damage to buildings around the city is not the work of a dangerous beast but rather duels and conflicts gone out of control. Tina has been gaining a lot of experience within this particular expertise herself, leading to her becoming an unofficial assistant of sorts. She seems to enjoy it despite her complaints and exasperation so Percival leaves it to them to work out their differences like proper adults.

“Are you fine with it, sir? If he’s bothering you too much, we can do something,” says one of the Junior Aurors who asked to join today.

“Calm yourself, Elliot,” Mathews laughs, “Director Graves would have done something himself if he didn’t want it.”

Percival wonders why his personal life is of such interest to his subordinates and why they feel perfectly comfortable about discussing it right in front of him, sometimes as if he isn’t there, even.

“Are you all quite done yet?” he grits out.

“It makes me want someone who'll be attached to me like that, too,” mutters Abernathy, a little wistfully.

She can’t have Newt, Percival thinks viciously, then feels a little embarrassed.

“Oh, if you’re looking, Ms. Abernathy—” Elliot tries, turning pink.

“Not you,” she interrupts, and then Percival barely holds back a snort when Elliot deflates.

His aurors are a rather amusing bunch, he realises.

“It’s like they’re constantly on a date. They might as well live together at this point,” he hears from Mathews and nearly chokes on his sip of coffee.

Amusing but a menace, he decides.

 

 

“Hey, boss, where have you been?”

Percival stops before he reaches his office and turns to see O'Brien jogging up to him. “What can I do for you, O'Brien?”

The auror towers over him and Percival inwardly curses this man's ridiculous height not for the first time.

“Thought maybe we could go out for drinks tonight,” O'Brien suggests. “Us Senior Aurors didn’t really get to congratulate you properly last time because we’ve been pretty busy since then and well, you seem more receptive now to, uh, non-work-related hangouts?”

Percival’s first thought is to decline, because it’s one thing to have lunch with them within the Woolworth building during work and another to have a drink with them outside the building after work.

“It’s uh, it’s alright, sir. You don’t have any obligation to accept,” O'Brien says, but he doesn’t look alright. The man has a terrible poker face right now and Percival knows that usually isn’t the case since he’s one of their best interrogators.

Today is Friday, Percival absently notes and sighs. “Who will be there?”

“Oh! Just us, Newt, and Goldstein, really; nothing big. At the usual place,” O'Brien replies, grinning.

“Very well,” Percival nods. “I will meet you there if nothing unforeseen happens.”

“Yes, sir!” And then the looming shadow turns away—“Oh, hey, little Newt!”

With O’Brien no longer taking up the whole hallway, Percival sees Newt approaching them.

“What are you two doing?” he asks curiously, but Percival thinks he also hears suspicion.

He nearly rolls his eyes.

“Just letting him know about tonight,” O’Brien answers. “You’re still good, right?”

“Ah, yes, of course!” Newt replies.

“Great! See you guys tonight at six!” And with that O’Brien leaves.

Percival sighs again and gestures with his head towards his office. Ms. Kett doesn’t even look up as they pass by her.

As soon as the door closes, Newt pulls Percival to the sofa and sits him down before climbing over his lap. The unexpected movement startles Percival. He remains stunned as Newt takes Lady and settles her next to them, and she hisses in displeasure before slithering away. He then loosens Percival’s tie, unbuttons the collar of his shirt.

“Newt, what—” and then he gasps when the man tucks his head into the junction between Percival’s neck and shoulder, breathing hotly on it.

They have been doing this at least once per day since Percival stopped his suppressants, a short, quiet moment to themselves and a time for Newt to try and smell Percival. But today is the first time Newt has done anything beyond just sitting next to him and sniffing.

Percival trembles as Newt continues to breathe on his sensitive skin, leaning heavily on him. There’s something different about the man’s scent, the usual warm applewood and cleanness of petrichor carrying a darker, sweeter undertone, and it makes his head spin when he takes a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” he rasps, brain about to short-circuit and hands scrambling for purchase on the sofa’s seat.

Newt mumbles something in reply and Percival shuts his eyes tight because all he can register is lips brushing his throat, the sound from the words sending vibrations along the surface.

“Newt—” he tries again but the syllable ends on a whine when suddenly, teeth sink lightly into his flesh.

Percival barely possesses enough coherent thought to silence and lock the room, but once he manages, his omega goes pliant and Newt growls in response. He doesn’t know what’s happening, Newt’s scent overwhelming him, but it’s a kind of bliss that he has never experienced before.

“Alpha,” he whines again, eyes tearing up because he can hardly breathe and his heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

“I’m here,” his alpha murmurs softly in his ear, lips brushing against the shell of it.

Newt kisses behind his ear, drags the tip of his nose down the other side of Percival’s neck, and that scent is all around him, calling out to his omega. It must be pheromones, Percival realises.

Newt’s hands which had been pressed against the wall behind the sofa and trapping him, lower slowly, drag down his arms and finally settle on his waist. Percival’s own twitch helplessly where they lie, just like the rest of him.

He wants this to stop and wishes it wouldn’t.

“Newt...” he almost sobs.

And then he can finally breathe because Newt lifts himself off of Percival and settles back. He kisses Percival softly and wipes at his wet eyes, and Percival can hardly respond to it, dazed. Newt then kneels down on the floor between Percival’s legs, wraps a hand around one of them and gently squeezes.

When Percival looks down, he sees his alpha’s pleased expression and a fond smile on his lips.

“What—what was that?” Percival asks as soon as he regains some semblance of control.

Newt hums, brings up his other hand to tangle with one of Percival’s. “Scent-marking.”

Percival blinks. “What for?”

“I just figured, if you don’t have a scent of your own right now, then you might as well smell like me.”

And Percival shivers at the slow, sensual smile that stretches across his alpha’s lips, the possessive glint in his eyes.

“I don’t believe this,” Percival says as indignantly as he can, trying not to squirm. “We’re still at work!”

“It’ll go away eventually,” Newt reasons, though he doesn’t seem pleased by the idea.

“This is because of O’Brien, isn’t it?” Percival guesses, frowning. “He didn’t do anything and he’s perfectly harmless.”

“He was standing too close,” Newt replies, then brings their joined hands towards him, rubs his cheek against the back of Percival’s.

Percival feels himself turn red and doesn’t know what to do. Never has anyone been so jealous over him, nor this _possessive_ , and his omega is elated, feels so thoroughly wanted.

“Please don’t do this in public,” Percival says at last.

“I know,” his alpha answers easily.

Newt then stretches up and leans in, and Percival turns his face away because he isn’t sure he can take much more of such close proximity at the moment. He shudders when Newt kisses his jaw, his ear, the corner of his mouth. And when Percival turns back to say something, Newt captures his lips in a deep kiss that has him whimpering, and Percival drowns in the man’s taste.

“You are going to be the death of me, Newt Scamander,” he pants afterwards.

“Then we’ll die together,” Newt laughs, eyes crinkling adorably, and makes Percival’s eyes sting for a different reason.

 

 

Later, Percival leaves Lady in the safety of Newt’s case reluctantly, nearly taking her with him when she looks up at him sadly from the nest of other occamys. Newt assures him that she will be fine, that she gets along with the others before pulling him out of the case.

When he and Newt arrive at The Prancing Unicorn, he sees an unexpected face.

“I’m surprised, yet I’m not,” Percival thinks out loud while Newt laughs.

“What’s with that reaction, Percival?” Theseus booms, voice carrying through the crowd noise.

The man gets up as they near and he shares a hug with Newt. He also gives Percival a hug and a knowing look after one sniff, and Percival struggles not to flush. It surprises them both when Newt doesn’t react.

“You must be really good to him,” Theseus muses as they sit down. “That’s good to know, because even if you’re my close friend, I won’t be happy if you hurt my brother.”

“‘Seus, please,” Newt groans in embarrassment.

But Percival honestly appreciates it, to know that Newt has a loving brother who looks out for him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, hoping Theseus never finds out how much Newt has been through already because of him.

The rest of their party join them soon after and the so-called celebration for their engagement devolves into a drinking contest between Theseus and Fontaine which ends with Abernathy beating both of them. Thankfully, no one else seems to notice Percival covered in Newt’s scent due to various levels of intoxication.

But Tina keeps trying to hug him because she’s drunk and missing her sister, and Percival just pats her awkwardly on the back. She murmurs, “Why do you smell like Newt?” at one point but Percival ignores it and no one else pays attention.

Newt just watches everything while completely sober (a wise decision on his part), partly horrified and partly amused.

“Why don’t you drink, Newt?” Percival asks curiously while he continues to pet Tina’s hair as she clings to him. “I’ve never seen you do so, even during the other times we were here with your brother.”

“Oh, um,” Newt hums as if stalling, turning pink interestingly. “I, well, I’m rather weak to its effects and after experiencing the results of losing inhibition the first few times, I decided it was best to keep myself away from it.”

Percival thinks about that. “Did you lose consciousness? If this is about being left vulnerable, you don’t need to concern yourself.”

“Sort of? But not really,” Newt offers hesitantly, then bites his lip.

For a moment, Percival struggles with holding himself back from wanting to feel those teeth on his own lips then shakes his head, mortified. He decides it’s a good time to stop his own alcohol intake.

He coughs to clear his throat. “Well, no one is forcing you.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Newt chuckles in relief.

The night comes to an end just as Percival starts to think he can't handle much more of aurors' drunken antics, and watches as O'Brien hoists Fontaine over his shoulder while Abernathy supports Mathews as she stumbles. Johnson gently pries Tina off of him and promises to get her home safely.

He’s about to snap at Mathews to get a hold of herself and escort Abernathy properly or he’ll do it himself, when the two women lean into one another with soft smiles on their faces. Percival turns away to leave them alone.

Newt has one of Theseus's arms over his shoulder and drags his brother out the door first, leaving the rest to follow. Outside, they bid each other good night and Percival warns his aurors that if they aren’t back at work properly on Monday morning, he will personally hunt them down. He isn’t certain his words register in their alcohol-infused brains but some of them nod while others slur, “Yes, sir.”

It will have to do.

Percival helps Newt support Theseus, wondering about his friend's penchant for drinking. He should have a talk with him tomorrow about it.

“Newt, Percival,” Theseus mumbles, “you guys need to have many cute little ones for me to spoil, alright?”

Percival stiffens and Newt stops abruptly, nearly letting go of their companion. They share a look, Newt grimacing and Percival keeping his own face carefully blank. His alpha mouths, “I’m sorry,” and he shakes his head in response, resuming their walking.

They put Theseus in one of the guestrooms after Newt helps him out of his coat and shoes. They leave him with a glass of water and a potion for his guaranteed hangover, then make their way to Percival’s room.

Though tired, he helps Newt check on the creatures and doesn’t pick Lady up from where she is sleeping coiled with her friends. He only gives her a light stroke on the crown of her head before climbing back out.

He sighs when he is finally able to rest his body on the comfortable mattress and Newt climbs in soon after, smelling of himself and his creatures. They still haven’t initiated contact in bed yet and Percival commends them both for it, but tonight he wants to burrow in that scent. He won’t tempt it, though, because he knows it will be worth the wait.

“I apologise for Theseus,” Newt says again, blinking slowly, expression sorrowful.

Percival closes his eyes, breathes in comfort. “It’s fine; we will tell him eventually.”

 

 

In the morning, Percival asks Theseus outright if he's well and why he feels the need to imbibe alcohol to the point of unconsciousness. He expects something along the lines of it being a coping mechanism from the war and he worries that it has become an addiction. Percival is intimately aware of what that feels like and would like to help his friend recover from such a dangerous habit if this is indeed the case.

What he doesn’t expect is a groan of embarrassment from both brothers. Theseus lowers his head on the dining table they’re sitting at and Newt pats his head as if to comfort him.

Percival raises a brow in question.

“Theseus has a habit of getting drunk off of having a good time,” Newt explains, then hastily continues at Percival’s bewildered look. “What I mean is, he drinks because he’s happy around people he knows and trusts. Our father is the same way and it makes family gatherings... interesting. And loud. And hectic.”

“My superior and coworkers don’t know this, so please refrain from telling them if you ever do meet,” Theseus finally speaks up, faintly red.

The explanation causes a multitude of thoughts to pass through Percival’s mind. The first is that his friend is a strange, strange person. The second is that it’s hilarious. The third is that he's touched Theseus considers him close enough to be drunk around him. The fourth is...

“You know, since both of you are redheads, your faces blend in with your hair when you blush,” he observes casually.

And the shame of being seen laughing too loudly is worth the twin scandalized looks he receives.

 

 

He leaves not too long after breakfast because Seraphina had asked him last night before he left the building to come see her in the morning. Newt and Theseus decide to head out for the day and catch up while sightseeing.

Seraphina is her usual imposing and charismatic self when Percival enters her office. She doesn’t glance up from where she is signing some papers and he doesn’t bother excusing himself before sitting in her guest chair. The room is quite except for the sound of a quill scratching on parchment and Percival lets it calm him.

“Good morning, Director Graves,” she greets, looking up at him when she’s finished.

Percival nods. “Is this official business, Madam?”

Seraphina doesn’t answer his question right away, simply gives him an assessing stare. After a moment, she replies, “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“News of your engagement has reached the ears of the other officials and they are offering their opinion like it should matter to us.”

Percival tenses his jaw in irritation; that’s her way of putting it nicely. He had thought sooner or later they would talk. He’s a Graves, the firstborn, expected to sire offspring as the supposed alpha heir. Well, they’ll be in for a quite a surprise if he can help it.

“Sera,” he starts, then inhales, “I’ve stopped taking suppressants.”

Seraphina's eyes widen, clearly not having expected that. “Since when?”

“Just last week,” he answers, licks dry lips. “I expect your support since you've already so kindly offered.”

“I—” and for the first time since their school days, Percival witnesses his friend speechless. Then after a minute, “Yes, of course, Percival. I will not let them invalidate all that you have done for MACUSA because of their ridiculous prejudice.”

Percival closes his eyes in relief because that is all he wants, and he is thankful that he has a true friend in Seraphina. “Thank you,” he says aloud.

“Do your aurors know?” she asks after a shared silence.

“They will, soon,” Percival replies. “My scent hasn’t returned yet but that is how they will find out. And I will not blame them for whatever reaction they have.”

“If they harass you in any way—”

Percival shakes his head. “I doubt it will go that far. They are good people, and I will be hurting them with this. But I will not step down unless they say they cannot trust me anymore and it harms the department. Otherwise, they will still be answering to me.”

Seraphina’s face softens and she shows a rare smile. “You’ve changed, Percy.”

Percival frowns, eyes narrowing. “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“‘Not in public’, I believe,” she teases, another rarity. Then sincerely, “He really is good for you, isn’t he.”

Percival’s smile is automatic as he thinks of Newt, and he runs a finger over his ring. “Yes, he is.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dears! This chapter was a doozy and I can't believe I finished it this quickly. Wrote like a madwoman, I did.
> 
> Very, very close now! Two more chapters, I think, or maybe one more chapter and an epilogue. Or two chapters and an epilogue. Idk, I'll have to write and see.
> 
> Thank you for all your sweet, kind, encouraging words as always! Btw, you guys are so intelligent and so imaginative, I'm blown away by the things you mention sometimes. I'm not worthy but I love it!

Another few days go by with no signs of his scent reappearing.

Newt remains patient with him, telling him not to worry, that it will happen in due time. He also says not to forget the promise Percival had made to him and Percival asks, “What promise?” just to see that cute pout and kiss it away.

Newt doesn’t scent-mark him again, at least not unexpectedly and as intensely as that first time. He stands closer than usual even when others’ eyes are on them, and seems unhappy at random times throughout the day. Percival thinks that he may be stressed over a case and decides to talk to him later to see if he needs help.

But on Wednesday, Percival is with Senior Auror Mathews at her desk to discuss a case when Newt comes up to them. He ignores the man for the time being because he is busy at the moment and he knows Newt can wait. He doesn’t expect the fingers at his nape, stretching across it under his hair to grip lightly and his stomach drops.

“Mr. Scamander!” he barks, feels the touch disappear immediately. He turns to Newt who looks caught and glares at him. “I believe you still have _work_ left to do, do you not? I suggest you go and get it done.”

Newt looks upset for a moment, opening his mouth to say something. Then his eyes widen and his face becomes a complex twist of emotions, finally settling on shame before he responds, “Yes, sir,” and walks away.

“Are you alright, sir?” Mathews asks quietly after a few minutes of tense silence.

Percival tightens his jaw, his irritation not leaving him as quickly as Newt had. “It’s fine; let us continue.”

He thinks throughout the day about how to confront Newt about his absolutely inappropriate behaviour, but Newt is nowhere to be seen and he doesn’t even drop by the office for his routine smelling. He isn’t there when Percival leaves his office for the day, isn’t at home when he walks in, anticipating his alpha’s presence.

Newt climbs into bed as Percival is falling asleep and the man greets him with a soft, “Hello.”

“Where have you been?” Percival asks, concern seeping into his voice despite his earlier anger.

Newt doesn’t reply, only stares at him with a strange expression. The man purses his lips as if to hold back something, eyes roaming over Percival’s face. And Percival tenses in trepidation because the last time he had seen a foreign face on Newt, his alpha had been struggling alone with an issue that had involved both of them.

“Newt—” Percival tries again.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Newt interrupts, now frowning. “It—I never thought that I would—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes closing and face distraught.

Percival doesn’t respond, because he wouldn’t be truthful if he tells Newt that it’s fine; it wasn’t. But he also doesn’t know what Newt wants to hear, if Newt even knows why he behaved that way. He has always been respectful of Percival’s wishes and boundaries, even during the bouts of assertiveness, but today had been unacceptable. Is he testing how much he can push before Percival sets his foot down?

“Newt, what happened?” Percival offers.

When Newt doesn’t look at him, Percival’s heart twists and he wants to reach out and make him open his eyes—

“Will you give me some time?” Newt finally asks, glancing at Percival briefly before looking somewhere over his shoulder. “I think I need to figure this out before I can explain properly.”

Percival swallows around the nervous lump in his throat. “Did I do something?”

Newt's eyes snap back to his. “No, it isn’t anything on your part. I just might be losing control—” and then he cuts himself off abruptly with a sharp inhale. A minute later, he says, “A little bit of time, that’s all. Please.”

Percival wonders if that also means Newt will be withdrawing physically and he wants to ask yet doesn’t. He has become accustomed to Newt holding him close, the kisses he’s allowed to have whenever he wants, pressing against one another when they sit together on the couch. He decides not to ask out of selfishness hoping that won’t be the case, but won’t stop the man if he needs space as well.

If it’s only a little bit, then Percival can wait.

 

 

Newt seems fine in the morning, accepting Percival’s lecture about appropriate workplace behaviour with a smile, and they go to work as usual.

Mathews is one of the few who is already there when they arrive and she winks at them as they pass, and Percival doesn’t really mind if they suspect at this point.

When they enter the office, Newt puts his suitcase down off to the side and stays at the door after he closes it behind him. Percival stops, too, and looks back curiously. His alpha just smiles and leans in and lets Percival meet him halfway for a light kiss. Something inside him loosens, relieved.

“Have a good day, love,” Newt murmurs against his mouth and the endearment distracts Percival enough from Newt quietly slipping back out.

He leans his forehead against the closed doors and sighs, cheeks too warm. There is not a single week that goes by without Newt surprising him with something or other and Percival is certain this unpredictability isn’t good for his health yet it's always a pleasant experience. Lady rubs her head gently on a cheek—liking the warmth, perhaps—and he gives her head a gentle pat before going to his desk.

Once sat down, Percival goes through the reports already on his desk and case files that need his attention. He signs papers and makes notes, pulls books from his shelf to research and cross-reference while Lady lounges on the back of his chair, content with the occasional bug he tosses her. He sips from his cup and grimaces at the hot coffee. Summer has arrived early and any additional heat source nowadays is unwelcome. He’s even tempted to wear less layers just for this season.

It’s a quiet, uneventful morning and it is rather unusual that Percival almost expects something to go wrong. Thankfully, he makes it to lunch without any such disruption of peace except for a few consults.

Newt comes in with their lunches in hand, a sandwich for himself and a cold salad with chicken for Percival. He appreciates the man’s choice in menu and smiles, inwardly pleased that Newt had known what he needed.

The papers and books are piled to the side to make room for their food, and they eat while Newt tells a story of one of his adventures. Lady tries to snatch some chicken from Percival’s bowl and he distracts her with tickles to her belly.

“So, Frank is now mated?”

“Yes! I’m truly happy for him. I’ve been meaning to visit him soon to see how the pair are doing,” Newt replies, then takes another mouthful of his sandwich.

That makes Percival pause. “How long have you been here, Newt?”

Newt hums thoughtfully, swallows his bite, then answers, “Almost two years now?” And then he chuckles. “Wow, I’ve never stayed in one place for this long since leaving home.”

Percival had almost forgotten Newt’s original job, the one that allows him to travel the world freely, rescuing and rehabilitating endangered creatures. Nothing that involves a day-to-day desk job and the occasional field work, trapped in a city full of buildings and minimal natural environments.

“Newt—”

“I guess it’s because I have a pretty good reason for staying.”

Newt grins cheekily when Percival just stares.

“Right?”

Percival ducks his head and mutters, “Why are you asking me?”

“And besides, I thought maybe we could travel together sometime. For the honeymoon, perhaps?” Newt continues, and the fact that Newt wants to take Percival with him, that he is already thinking about their _future_ makes Percival happier than he can say.

They finish their lunch, then Newt stands and holds out a hand to him, asks, “May I?”

After a beat, Percival takes it and also stands and they head to the sofa. Once they’re sitting, he pulls off his tie and unbuttons the collar, then sighs as Newt noses at his neck. He nearly smiles at Newt’s huff of disappointment, letting the man rest his head on his shoulder.

“I did say it was okay, but—”

“I know,” Percival says gently, kisses the top of Newt’s head, then kisses his lips when he lifts up to ask wordlessly.

“I like that you like kissing me,” Newt remarks, resting against Percival’s shoulder again and rumbling happily.

“I admit that it’s quite enjoyable,” Percival says.

“For me, too.”

Lady screeches from where she is coiled on his desk, demanding more food from what Percival can tell, and he sighs.

“How come she acts like she is always hungry?” Percival asks.

“Because you spoiled her diet, Percival,” Newt replies nonchalantly.

“Is she gaining too much weight? Am I making her unhealthy?”

“She’s fine,” Newt chuckles at him. “Their metabolism is remarkable and they usually don’t move much which explains how they subsist on such little food. But Lady has come to expect a far more frequent intake thanks to your generosity.”

“Then I should cut down on feeding her.”

“She will probably hate you for it, but whatever suits you; she will adapt to it.”

“Shouldn’t you be giving more decisive advice?” Percival grumbles.

“You’re already doing a good job, love.”

Percival doesn’t say anything after that, caught off guard again by the endearment. Newt seems to sense the embarrassment in his silence and looks up at him, smiling fondly.

“Newt—”

“Let me guess: ‘not in public’?”

Percival struggles not to frown at his own predictability. “For now.”

“Alright, let me know when you change your mind.”

Perhaps he should have said ‘never’.

 

 

Contrary to Newt’s previous concerns, the two of them are changed and lounging in the living room that night after dinner when it happens

“Is that—”

Percival looks up from the book he’s reading on the other end of the sofa to see Newt’s eyes widen and him sniff the air. Less than a second later, he has a lapful of Newt who immediately scrambles off again. Thankfully, Lady isn’t around his neck because otherwise, she would’ve startled badly.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man stutters, turning red. “Can I—I just want to—please?”

Percival gapes at Newt’s nearly frantic eye movements before they settle around his chest area and the tightly coiled posture as if he’s barely holding himself back from pouncing on him.

“Is it—” Percival starts. “Do you smell it?”

“Yes,” Newt practically whines. “ _Please_.”

Closing his book, Percival sits up straight then turns so he’s facing Newt. He brings his legs up on the seat so he isn’t twisting his body and rests his back against the arm, sees Newt biting his lip.

“Slowly,” he murmurs calmly, watching as Newt crawls back towards him. “That’s it, slow and careful.”

And Newt listens, face red yet eager, climbs carefully over Percival’s legs and into his arms. Percival holds Newt’s face in front of his, preventing further advancing and Newt whines again.

Percival hushes him gently before saying, “Fortunately for you, I didn’t set a specific time limit for this case. But we do need to sleep at some point; please keep that in mind.”

Newt barely nods in response, eyes already out of focus, and Percival gradually lowers his head to his throat. As soon as Newt inhales once, his whole body slumps on top of Percival’s like a puppet with its strings cut. Percival understands because the scent of the one you love is one of the most amazing things that anyone can experience with any of the five senses. He regrets a little that Newt had to wait this long but he’s immensely grateful for the alpha’s patience. He’s certain none of the previous alphas would have done the same for him.

When Percival feels a cold wetness running down his bare skin, he holds Newt tighter, runs fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

“I’m here,” he says, rubbing across Newt’s trembling back with his other hand.

Newt cries silently while inhaling as deeply as he can, sometimes letting out shuddering breaths that tickle Percival. He holds still as best as he can while his alpha calms down.

“You smell wonderful,” Newt rasps after a while, head resting against Percival’s chest and arms wrapped loosely around his middle. “Like freshly brewed green tea infused with mint and the best quality honey that can ever be produced.”

Percival can’t help but smile at the description. “I smell like your beloved beverage, I see.”

“It’s perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine,” his alpha says, arms squeezing a little.

There is something off about the way Newt says that, but Percival ignores it for now and just lets the man enjoy himself for now.

“We should go to bed soon,” Percival suggests after nearly dozing off a second time.

“Okay,” Newt agrees but shows no signs of getting up.

“Newt, I can’t feel my legs.”

“Okay.” Then after a beat, “Can I have just a few more minutes? Please?”

His alpha sounds terribly vulnerable all of a sudden as he whispers the last question, and Percival’s heart clenches because something is wrong and he doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Are you alright, Newt?” Percival asks worriedly.

Then Newt suddenly lifts himself off and stands up, stumbling a little from disuse of his legs. “Yes—yes,” he repeats, as if convincing himself.

Percival is sceptical, further alarmed by his alpha’s brittle smile as he offers a hand to help Percival up. He stumbles as well, legs having gone numb, and is supported as they walk together up the steps. Percival gets the vague feeling he is supporting Newt just as much with the man clinging to him, making walking a little difficult at times.

Newt is quiet as they wash up together, wordless as they climb into bed, silent as he sheds more tears when he looks at Percival from across the bed.

“Newt,” Percival calls, throat tightening in sympathy. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Newt replies right away, roughly wiping at his face, a futile attempt since the tears don’t stop. “I’m very happy right now, is all.”

There is something else he isn’t saying, because the man’s words aren’t reflected in his expression, and Percival thinks Newt doesn’t know that. It seems to dawn on him when Percival continues to stare at him, worried and thoughtful.

“I’m still getting it—sorted out,” Newt admits, obviously referring to his request for time the night before. “But I honestly am happy as well. I actually got to be the first,” and then he chuckles wetly.

For the second time in a row, Percival is tempted to just reach out, provide some sort of comfort for Newt, and his alpha must sense it because he shakes his head. He smiles a little and it’s more genuine than before, which helps stay Percival’s hand.

“Thank you, love; I appreciate it.”

And Percival watches as Newt’s breathing slowly evens out and the tears stop. He watches until the tear tracks dry, then gets up from bed, heads towards the bathroom. He wets a small towel in warm water and wrings it out, then returns to bed and sits down carefully, not wanting to wake Newt. Percival wipes softly at Newt's eyes and cheeks, down his nose and around his mouth. It may be breaking their unspoken rule or just circumventing it, but with the towel between them, he thinks it’s okay.

After the towel is sent back to the bathroom, Percival lies down again, thinks about how their relationship isn’t easy. Both of them have their own sets of scars from their pasts and while Percival has mostly come to terms with his, trusts in Newt’s acceptance of him, he is realising that Newt might not be at the same stage yet. Percival hopes that Newt knows he is prepared to accept his alpha as he is when he is ready to talk.

Percival listens to Newt breathe deeply and doesn’t sleep for a long time.

 

 

After waking up, Newt asks if he can hold Percival again so they skip breakfast (but not coffee) and Percival allows him to tuck his face in his neck once more and take greedy pulls of his scent. Percival also breathes in his alpha’s scent and it makes him happy that they are finally able to mutually scent one another.

Despite his earlier convictions, Percival is still nervous about going into work and revealing his scent to his subordinates. Newt tells him that it isn’t obvious, that surrounded by other smells and minds focused on work, they won’t notice right away.

“Besides, if they say anything stupid, you’ll yell at them properly, no?”

“It won’t the same as scolding them for being immature or making mistakes,” Percival sighs, letting Newt usher him out the door. “I don’t want to lose them, Newt.”

He says the last part grimly, not able to deny the possibility of it happening and Newt doesn’t respond, knows that Percival will not be reassured unless he sees it for himself.

When they arrive, Percival holds his head high and strides in as usual into the Woolworth building, nodding at the few who greet him. He hears from behind Newt bumping into someone also as usual, and holds back a smile.

The Investigations room is still mostly empty as he makes his way through it, heart pounding. The few aurors present greet him and he nods at them as well and it isn’t until he closes the door after entering his office that he lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Percival reaches his desk and leans on it with his palms flat on its surface, closing his eyes.

“—val? Percival. Percival!”

Percival’s head snaps up and it’s turned when Newt grabs it. The man who is now standing next to him presses their foreheads together and breathes deeply before exhaling. He repeats it until Percival is unconsciously doing the same, until he relaxes.

“It’ll be fine, Percival,” Newt says, eyes boring into his. “If they aren’t fine with it, then they don’t deserve you.”

Then he tucks Percival’s head into his shoulder, lets him inhale deeply and relax further. He’s too good, Percival thinks. Such a wonderful man is his alpha, a strong, steady support for him even when he cannot be the same for Newt. Percival turns fully and wraps his arms around Newt’s waist.

“Newt,” he says, pulling back to meet the man’s surprised gaze. “When you are ready to talk, I will listen. And whatever you say, I will not turn my back on you. You are a good man, a good _alpha_ , and surely whatever is tormenting you cannot be anything heinous.”

He isn’t surprised to see Newt’s eyes well up, and it hurts him that his alpha is in pain because of whatever he is withholding from him. He wipes away the single tear that falls, kisses the grateful smile he sees, tastes the whispered ‘thank you’.

“Will you tell me?” he asks.

Newt kisses him again, smiling sincerely. “Soon.”

The day goes by without any enquiries about his scent because it is indeed too subtle for it to be noticed yet by anyone in a large, bustling room. Percival doesn’t know if he feels relieved or frustrated that he will have to wait through another weekend to see everyone’s reactions, but he enjoys a relaxing weekend with Newt nonetheless, even spending all of Saturday in the suitcase.

And on Monday, Fontaine gives the first sign. The man enters his office to drop off documents, and he pauses mid-greeting.

“Something the matter, Fontaine?” Percival asks, raising a brow.

“No, it’s—nothing. Just these, sir,” he replies and approaches his desk.

Percival forces himself to remain calm when he sees the man twitch his nose before rubbing it. Fontaine then nods his head and leaves.

Every auror that comes into his office afterwards has a similar response. They notice the scent but don’t confirm it before they leave, most likely because Percival himself doesn’t act any different. A couple of them eye him curiously but don’t linger when he dismisses them.

Then comes lunch time.

Tina, Johnson, Abernathy and O’Brien have joined him and Newt today in the lunchroom. They chatter amongst themselves as Percival drinks his second cup of coffee, Newt calmly correcting the occasional misunderstanding about a certain creature.

”Hey, boss, did some omega try to come onto you or something?” O’Brien asks all of a sudden.

Percival nearly flinches, keeps his face blank as he glances at Newt who has frozen before meeting the auror’s curious look.

Johnson groans. “Why do you do this every time, man? You are unbelievably tactless with everything other than interrogating.”

Murmurs of agreement go around the group, Abernathy even shaking her head, but O’Brien doesn’t seem bothered.

“I was just curious,” the man says, shrugging.

Percival takes another sip from his coffee to wet his suddenly dry throat, then breathes deeply to calm himself. “I believe that is my scent you are smelling, O’Brien,” he replies, and is surprised by how steady his voice is.

No one says anything, only stare at him wide-eyed except for Newt gives him an encouraging smile.

“Did you just make a joke, sir?” Tina asks hesitantly.

Percival frowns. “Why would I be joking, Tina?”

Then his aurors all start talking at once.

“But you smell like an omega—”

“Sir, that’s impossible—”

“Wouldn’t that mean—”

They all go abruptly silent, having reached the conclusion after their own babblings.

“No way...” Johnson mutters, breaking the silence first, and Percival tenses.

“You’ve been hiding this all this time?” Abernathy asks, hurt apparent in her eyes.

“ _Why_?” O’Brien growls and Percival can’t stop the flinch this time.

Newt looks up at him and growls immediately in response, and O’Brien’s eyes widen, face going slack.

“You knew,” he states almost accusingly, glaring at Newt.

“I asked him to keep quiet, so please refrain from pointing fingers at the wrong person,” Percival says calmly, all eyes snapping back to him.

“I—” Percival starts then stops, looks each of his aurors in the eyes, knowing he has hurt them. “I had my reasons for hiding, but now it has come to a point that I can no longer continue this charade and be the only one who still lies amongst you.”

“You deserve better than a Director who hides beneath a mask and pretends to be something he’s not,” he continues, trying not to be discouraged by their unresponsiveness. “I did not have the courage to do so before, could not trust you to overlook what my gender represents and allow me to continue in this position. For that I apologise and ask for your forgiveness.”

Even though they are still watching, Newt rubs his back gently and it’s a small measure of comfort for Percival.

“Excuse me, sir,” Abernathy speaks up, eyes narrowed in a glare. “I need to get back to work,” and then she stands and leaves, food unfinished.

“I as well, sir,” Johnson mutters almost apologetically, but doesn’t even look at Percival before he walks away, trying to catch up to Abernathy.

“Sorry for scaring you, boss,” O’Brien speaks next, eyes on the table.

Percival grits his teeth, ashamed of his earlier reaction. “It’s fine.”

“Did you really think we would judge you because you’re an omega?”

The question stabs straight into Percival’s heart, and he has no excuse to offer.

“I had my fears, yes,” he admits quietly, glancing at Tina who still hasn’t said a word.

“And now... what changed?” a voice asks from behind.

It’s Fontaine, expression blank unlike Mathews who is next to him, face twisted in a mixture of anger and hurt. They quietly sit down on the vacated seats.

“Is it because of _him_?” Mathews gestures at Newt who glares back.

Percival inwardly despairs, because this is his problem and it’s affecting Newt’s relationship with his aurors as well.

“Partially,” Percival says truthfully, because there needs to be no more lies. “My own apprehensions and assumptions prevented me from connecting with you even though you all tried. I know you did. I just did not want to see it, preferring to submit to my own cowardice. It was easier to protect myself than leave myself open. And being an omega...”

Here, Percival stops and looks away to suppress the panic that is building up. And no one says anything, no one mocks him for this show of weakness on his part. Newt continues his soothing rubs and they wait until he calms himself enough to continue. Percival faces them again.

“Being an omega means no one takes you seriously. I attended Ilvermony and spent seven years with expectations of marriage heavy on my shoulders. I was discouraged by most professors for having a dream to pursue, for hoping to succeed in a chosen career. As soon as I graduated, I was to be married and have children.”

The silence that follows is tense. Mathews is no longer looking his way, and Tina’s eyes are wet. Fontaine and O’Brien’s faces are dark with something. And for some reason, Percival keeps talking.

“Thankfully, the arrangement fell through and I left home as soon as possible and entered auror training, completely suppressing myself. No one asked if I was certain I wanted to do this, if I would be able to handle it. No one mocked me for trying hard to improve myself, and no one told me to go find myself a nice alpha and raise a family.”

Percival absently notes how calmly he is saying all this, even though it’s his own past—the one he had kept to himself—that he’s revealing.

“I beat all of them. I pushed myself, trained hard, and by the end of training, no one—not one single alpha—could beat me in a duel. Even now, no one can.”

Except for Grindelwald, a dark part of his mind whispers, but he ignores that voice.

“My magic was— _is_ significant in its power,” he states in a tone that brooks no argument.

Newt’s other hand grips one of his that had unconsciously curled into a fist and coaxes it open, holds it gently. Percival squeezes back.

“Another alpha tried to court me shortly after I became an auror and to put it simply, he left because I wanted to continue being an auror.”

“Unbelievable...” he hears Mathews murmur, and he doesn’t know which part she is responding to.

“Newt here—” and he pauses to glance at his alpha who looks upset by all that he has shared, unsurprisingly, “he tells me that it’s alright to want this and be an omega at the same time, and proves it with his actions. And now I am able to see how amazing my aurors are and trust you with this.”

“I had my reasons,” Percival repeats, taking in their faces one-by-one, “but I am sorry, nonetheless.”

Percival gives them a few minutes to process everything, and then he moves to get up but is stopped by Newt’s grip tightening on his hand. He looks at the man curiously but Newt just smiles.

“Oh geez,” O’Brien utters at last, a hand over his face. “Don’t apologise for something like that, boss.”

“I can’t even be angry about this anymore,” Mathews huffs. “I hope you kicked that dumb alpha’s ass. And you know what, I’ll kick Newt’s if he’s dumb, too.”

“Excuse me—” Newt protests.

“You would have to beat me to it, Senior Auror Mathews,” Tina finally says, wiping stray tears from her face.

“Tina!”

“I don’t know what to say,” Fontaine mutters dazedly. “Oh Merlin, all this time we treated you so harshly—”

“Stop right there, Fontaine,” Percival snaps. “Nothing changes because you know. I have always been an omega regardless and you will continue to treat me with the same respect and the same manner you always have.” Then after a beat, he adds hesitantly, “If you will still have me.”

“How can you say that, sir?” Johnson exclaims, having returned at some point and now making his presence known. “Of course we will.”

Abernathy appears from behind the man, her usual expressionless face distraught.

“Sir, I—,” she starts shakily. “I was always grateful that you had given me a chance. It was an honour to be recognised by the best auror at MACUSA and even though I’m an omega, I never felt looked down upon or underestimated. I—” Her breath hitches, but she swallows and continues. “I was only upset because I thought I had been the only one this whole time, but you were here, too. I—I didn’t mean to be hateful, sir.”

And Percival can’t stop the tears that suddenly well in his eyes, utter relief shattering his heart to pieces. He quickly ducks his head to hide his face, but his aurors have clearly seen them already. They start unnecessarily apologising and Newt curls the hand that had been rubbing his back around his waist and pulls him closer. Percival goes without resistance because he can’t be bothered with what is appropriate in front of his aurors at this moment and Newt’s touch and scent comfort him.

He had hoped, told himself that he trusted them, but to see the evidence of their amazing character with his very own eyes is a miracle. These men and women who have fought with him so faithfully for many years, serving the city and country, still accept him as their Director.

“How dare you? You’re all horrible people for making him cry,” he hears Newt scold them teasingly.

And to his horror, he hears one of the Junior Aurors say from nearby, “What are you guys doing? Are you bullying the Director?”

“Shut up, Junior; we’re having a moment,” Mathews replies before shooing him away.

Percival huffs a laugh because he doesn’t want to have any more moments if this is what it entails.

“Oh, good, he’s laughing now,” Johnson remarks.

And now, Percival is too embarrassed to lift his head because of the sheer volume of emotions he has shown them so he wipes his eyes and stands, breaking Newt’s hold on him, before turning away from all of them.

“This was an unusually long lunch break but I will let it slide just for today. Back to your stations, everyone,” he orders.

He ignores O’Brien’s whine of, “Damn, we were having such a good moment, too,” and walks as quickly as he can without seeming like he’s running away. Newt catches up soon after and they both make their way back to Percival’s office.

Lady greets him as soon as he’s back inside, having woken up from her nap on the sofa. Her weight back on his neck relaxes him and his legs give out, tumbling him onto the sofa seat. Newt, who had taken the time to lock and silence the room, makes his way over and sits next to Percival. The man encourages him to lie down, and Lady moves accordingly as he lays his head on Newt’s lap. The occamy chirps happily at him from his chest.

Percival throws an arm over his eyes and breathes deeply, tiredness seeping into his bones. Emotions are quite the exhausting things, he’s learning.

“That went pretty well, if I do say so myself. They’re smarter than I thought,” Newt says thoughtfully. “They know that you’re the best Director they will ever have.”

“Shut up, Newt,” Percival mumbles, but can’t quite hide the smile in his voice.

“Why don’t you make me, sir?” the man replies cheekily.

“ _Merlin_.”

“It’s Newt, actually.”

And Percival growls, lifts the arm on his face to pull the man’s head down by his tie and shuts him up properly. Then he discovers that this angle is quite nice and prolongs the kiss. It only stops because they can’t stop smiling.

Percival realises as Newt is combing fingers through his loosened hair that he has been thoroughly distracted from another bout of unwanted tears. For that, he gives Newt another kiss, a little deeper and wetter than the previous one. He enjoys the flush on Newt’s face afterwards.

“I love you,” he says, and the words come easy in this moment where he is at peace with his alpha smiling down at him.

Newt’s smile grows, joy filling his face. “Love you, too.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... not getting to the scenes I need in order to wrap up the story. And some scenes keep getting longer as I write them. Idk, man.
> 
> But anyway, please enjoy this odd mixture of tones. Also...
> 
>  **Warning!** : slight depiction of unwanted advances, very short, very nothing-really-happens but the warning is here just in case
> 
> Thank you to all as always!

By Thursday, everyone at MACUSA knows that Percival Graves is an omega.

Seraphina calls him to her office during lunch, her face tight with concern when he sees her.

“How did they take it?” she asks bluntly as soon as he sits down.

“They were shocked, to say the least,” Percival replies. “My Senior Aurors were the first to know, and they were exceptionally gracious about it. I’m very grateful for them, Sera. And the others... are handling it in their own ways.

Some of them haven’t looked at him since realising, others have looked _differently_ at him. And so far, no one has said anything outright, but he has noticed a pause in some of his aurors’ motions when he gives them orders, a kind of reluctance or hesitation. It has put him on edge, but he decides to give them the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone adjusts to change at the same pace.

“You cannot justify any form of harassment from them because you feel guilty, do you understand?"

Percival stares incredulously before shaking his head, smiling. “It won’t go that far, I’m sure; they’re all good men and women. But I understand, so thank you. And besides, I can handle myself if they can even dare to try anything.”

“The point is that you shouldn’t have to,” Seraphina says seriously.

And Percival doesn’t reply for a moment, appreciating once again the wonderful people by his side. “You are an irreplaceable friend, Sera. Thank you.”

Seraphina blinks at his unexpectedly sentimental words, then her brows furrow. “Are we having a moment, Percival?”

“We are having no such thing, Madam President,” he replies without missing a beat.

“Good. We can do without those,” but she smiles as she says it.

“Yes, I agree.”

They both enjoy the quiet for a few minutes, and Percival is about to excuse himself when Seraphina clears her throat.

“There is... something else which I need to inform you. I have only just received a letter from the Ministry this morning so it is still classified information for now. There will be a meeting held tomorrow to announce this but—but I thought that you deserve to know first.”

Percival remains silent, wondering what could cause the tenseness in her shoulders.

“The Ministry has come to a decision—about Grindewald.”

His mind goes blank at hearing that name. And then a sudden rush of anger, fear, and hatred fill him, making him gasp at the intensity before forcing it under control. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, ashamed that even just by name that wretched man evokes such a reaction from him after all this time, after he had thought he was past this. Seraphina patiently waits for him.

“I see,” he says at last, voice strained. “And what do they say about him?”

“He is to be executed. All of his deplorable crimes have finally been accounted for,” Seraphina says with a grim satisfaction. “Honestly, I am impressed that they have been able to keep him detained for this long but after what happened to us here, it seems they have been taking no chances whatsoever. They say he is getting restless and it’s making them nervous. So, they are bringing down judgement upon him at an opportune time.”

Percival takes this all in numbly because he isn’t sure what to feel right now. He leaves it to think about at a later time with a clearer mind.

“Thank you for letting me know, Madam President. Have they said anything about the date of execution?”

“According to the letter, it will be tomorrow which is why the meeting is being rushed. It has already been three days for them since coming to a decision.”

Grindelwald will be dead tomorrow. His tormentor, captor, the enemy he could not defeat no matter how hard he had tried and one who still haunts his dreams. That man will no longer exist on this earth in mere hours. It’s surreal to hear of this, difficult to accept immediately as his reality.

“I trust that you will keep this to yourself until the meeting,” Seraphina warns unnecessarily.

“Of course.”

“Then you may leave now, Director. I apologise for cutting into your break.”

Percival nods and returns to his own office, barely acknowledging those who greet him along the way. He sighs in relief when he finds the room empty and it’s a small mercy because he’d rather not be here right now, would rather go home to process what he is only just suppressing in his own mind.

He hasn’t given much thought to Grindelwald in the past year. Before, the nightmares had been frequent, a constant reminder of what he had endured under the hands of that madman. Now, they are few and far in between, not as intense. Even if a nightmare wakes him, he is able to quietly remove himself from the bed without waking Newt and calm himself with a glass of water in the kitchen. And today...

He hears a quiet hiss and looks down to see Lady at his feet. She returns his gaze as if asking to be held and he crouches down, stretches out an arm towards her. She deftly coils herself around his hand and slithers up the length of his arm, settling back in her usual place on his neck.

Maybe he would rather not be completely alone.

She remains a comforting weight on his shoulders as he goes through some paperwork, ignoring his hunger for now. He keeps working until there is a knock at his door and he calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door opens and reveals no one, but a paper bag floats its way towards Percival. Lady chirps curiously in his ear as the bag is placed on his desk.

Percival sighs. “When did Newt let you out?”

The air in front of him shimmers, and the distortion moves to the side and makes its way around. Percival feels the touch on his knee then the weight on his thighs, and Dougal makes himself visible once firmly sat on Percival’s lap. He blinks large, round eyes and points at the bag.

“Yes, thank you,” he says kindly, patting the demiguise’s head for its efforts, then grabs the bag.

Inside, it contains a warm bowl of clam chowder and two rolls, and Percival’s mouth waters at the delicious smell that wafts up his nose. He has to reach around Dougal to eat his meal but he doesn’t mind it too much. He spends more energy keeping the creatures away from his food than the actual consumption of it and wonders how this is his life now, but it’s a welcome distraction.

Then Dougal abruptly disappears from his sight and his weight slithers off. Percival feels him under the desk gripping onto his legs.

“Dougal?” Percival calls curiously.

Another knock resounds and Percival sighs again, putting down his spoon. “Yes?”

An auror steps in this time—Adler, he recalls, a recent recruit. She is a tall woman, long, blond hair falling loosely over her shoulders, make-up unusually thick on her face, and it makes Percival frown. She seems to have been chosen for the errand of delivering him some case files. She takes an obvious sniff of the room before smiling at him a little too widely.

Percival can already sense that she is trouble and inwardly sighs. “You may leave them on the desk, thank you. Who is your direct supervisor, Ms. Adler?”

“Without your alpha today, Director?” she questions back, ignoring what he has said.

Percival narrows his eyes. “That was a highly inappropriate question and it is, quite frankly, none of your concern. I do not like to repeat myself, so I suggest you answer now.”

The woman carelessly drops the case files onto his desk and leans in invasively, emitting a thick, cloying alpha scent that stings Percival’s nose. She startles at Lady’s hiss of warning and frowns as she notices the occamy.

“Isn’t this thing a burden?”

Percival is about to snap at her to step back and _how dare she insult Lady like that_ but then Adler reaches out towards Lady like a fool and he just has time to think _oh Merlin_ when he hears the occamy screech as he feels a tug on his pant leg. Percival ducks down under his desk just in time as Lady rapidly expands, crashing his chair against a wall and shaking his desk violently, splintering parts of it. He cradles Dougal as he hears Adler scream then the doors banging open. The rest of the sounds that follow are muffled, and Percival works quickly to pet what little part of Lady he can touch, speaking in soothing tones even though he isn’t sure she can hear him.

Eventually, she starts to shrink and as she does, he can hear more clearly the noises from outside his door. There are rapid footsteps and with Lady out of sight, Percival hastily moves to get out. Dougal (now visible again) climbs out first and he follows, stands up from his crouch. Abernathy stands at his desk with a teapot in her hands, Tina a little behind her with a wide-eyed and pale, but relatively unharmed Adler in her grip.

“Are you alright, sir?” Abernathy asks, posture tense.

“I’m fine. The furniture have taken most of the damage,” Percival replies, holding out his hand for the teapot.

It’s handed over carefully and through the opening he sees his occamy coiled tightly in it, chirping miserably. As soon as she sees him, she flies out and grows to her original size as she wraps herself around his neck and shoulders. He runs a hand softly along her body, relaxing himself when he can feel no obvious injury and Lady does not cry in pain at any time. Percival then looks at his aurors.

“Is she under your supervision, Abernathy?”

“Yes, sir,” Abernathy answers stiffly.

“She seems to have trouble listening to her superiors,” and though he is talking to his Senior Auror, his glare is on Adler. “Has she been giving you a hard time as well?”

Abernathy doesn’t respond.

Percival looks at her, concern furrowing his brows. “Why did you not say anything?”

“I could have handled it fine, sir. It isn’t the first time I’ve had... difficult subordinates,” she replies with cold impassiveness.

Her words are a stab of guilt to his heart and he wants to apologise again for how she has been alone in this, but now is neither the time nor place. “Yes, that is true,” he says slowly. “I trust that you will be able to handle this one just as competently.”

Abernathy blinks, then loses some of her tenseness. “Of course, sir.”

“And Ms. Adler will know to listen next time, will she not?” he directs harshly at the withdrawn alpha and hears her mutter, “Yes, sir.”

Before he dismisses them, he says, “I would like to borrow her for a bit, Abernathy. I need someone to help me clean this because Lady and I don’t like messes. She can start with reorganising all the case files that have been scattered about.”

Abernathy relaxes further and nods. “She is all yours, sir.”

“Thank you; you may leave.”

After she and Tina leave, Percival puts the auror to work. He doesn’t allow her to use magic to collect the papers, instructs her to do everything manually. He, on the other hand, uses his wand freely to repair the furniture and walls, and vanish the mess of spilled food. Percival is secretly amused watching Adler flinch every time Lady moves, wary eyes constantly on his occamy. Dougal plays at being a spectator of the whole thing from the sofa.

The best part is when Newt returns from an investigation.

“Percival! Have you eaten—oh, hello,” Newt says, blinking at Adler who is crouched on the floor, shifting papers.

“Yes, Newt. Ms. Adler, did you not ask after my alpha earlier?” Percival remarks, glancing up from his own work.

“She did?” Newt asks curiously, looking back and forth between them.

“Perhaps she wanted to see the rumoured nundu in your case,” Percival says with a deliberate casualness.

Newt frowns as he sits next to Dougal. “I thought she’s no longer rumoured. But is that so?” he directs the question with a bright smile towards Adler who has become pale once again.

Adler shakes her head. “N-no, sir, I was only—” and then she stops, seeming to realise she can’t explain her true reason for asking about Newt in front of the very alpha himself.

“They usually ask to see Mary in groups of four or five but you are rather brave,” Newt comments, ignoring her protest.

It’s only when Adler turns desperate, pleading eyes to him that Percival relents. “Have you finished with the case files?” and at her nod he continues, “Please leave them carefully and _in order_ on my desk; then you are free to go.”

“Thank you, sir,” Adler mumbles and does exactly as she is told this time.

When the door closes behind her, he and Newt share a long look. And of course, Newt breaks first.

“How did I do, Director?” he asks with a grin.

“It was an act worthy of my approval, Mr. Scamander,” Percival returns with a smile of his own.

Newt stands and walks over, then sits himself on the desk. He greets Lady, grin disappearing at her trembling when he pets her. “What did she do?”

“Gave poor Lady a bit of a scare, nothing drastic. But I didn’t like it.”

“That isn’t all she did,” Newt growls, noticing the offensive scent around Percival.

“It’s all she did that _matters_ , Newt,” Percival says pointedly. “But you could clear up the air a bit. Come here.”

Percival doesn’t wait for Newt's response and pulls him down by his tie, pressing his nose against his alpha’s throat as soon as it’s within reach. He sighs happily at the lovely, heady scent, made stronger by Newt's aggression. There are good and bad things about alpha possessiveness and this is one of the good ones.

Newt noses behind his ear, sighing as well, and nuzzles at the skin there which makes Percival shiver in pleasure. He feels a kiss and a nibble, and Percival wants _more_.

“Newt,” he murmurs, cheeks flushing.

His alpha hums in acknowledgement before pulling back to see his red face. “Too much?”

It is, yet it isn’t enough; but they are still at work. Instead of answering, he leans up and presses a soft kiss to Newt’s mouth and Newt hums again, happily, pursing his lips gently against Percival’s. When they part, Percival realises that Lady has gone slack, snoring quietly in her sleep.

“She’ll be okay,” Newt says and runs a finger across her head.

Percival nods, glad that Newt has confirmed her state. Then Pickett pokes his head out from Newt’s coat pocket and climbs out to sit himself on Newt’s knee.

“Is my office a daycare for your creatures, Newt?” Percival asks dryly while waving absently at the bowtruckle.

Pickett hasn’t been in his office as much since Newt is spending more time out on the field, lately, and also due to being able to stay out in the open at home. But every once in a while, he and Dougal will show their faces here like today. Sometimes Bill, if Newt is feeling kind.

“You mean, it isn’t?” Newt asks too innocently, then chuckles at the look Percival shoots him.

Percival just shakes his head. “Did you eat?”

“Had a little something from the lunch room. I have to say—even though I am the last person who should be passing judgement on food since I hardly appreciate it—some of those menu items here are rather questionable.

“They’re healthy,” Percival defends automatically, although he wholeheartedly agrees. “Then why did you not have some clam chowder from wherever you found it?”

“I didn’t have time,” Newt replies unconvincingly, shrugging. “We were still working.”

“Newt,” Percival scolds, “you need to eat properly, too.”

“I know.”

Since both of them are busier now, with Newt having taken more unofficial assistants under his wing to teach them, they have been eating lunch separately more often than not. He knows that eating together was keeping Newt just as accountable as himself but since that hasn’t been happening, he thinks about asking Tina to keep her eye on him.

“Don’t worry about me, Percival,” Newt says, smiling, as if that helps.

“Whether I worry or not is my choice,” and his words only seem to make Newt happier rather than feel chastised.

“Okay.”

His alpha gives him one more kiss before dropping Pickett onto Percival’s desk and waving at Dougal as he leaves.

“See you after work!”

Then it’s quiet once again in the office before Pickett feels like being chatty and Percival makes appropriate noises of response to whatever the bowtruckle says while reading through the case files. It isn’t long before Dougal climbs back in his lap to look at the papers with him, and then Pickett quiets down to do the same. He doesn’t realise he's covering all photos of the violent crime scenes until Pickett pulls at his fingers.

“ _No_ , you aren't allowed to see these.”

Dougal blinks up at him and Pickett huffs angrily before turning away, sitting himself an inch away from Percival’s hand. Lady, undisturbed by it all, continues to sleep.

Mercy Lewis, how is this his life?

 

 

Later at home, Percival tells Newt how Pickett had tried to look at the terrible photos and Newt...

“Are you trying not to laugh?” he asks incredulously. “Newt, it could have traumatised the poor thing.”

“Y-yes, you’re absolutely right,” Newt agrees, mouth straight but twitching, eyes smiling. “Thank you for—for protecting him.”

When Percival narrows his eyes in scepticism, Newt hurriedly adds, “Really. You did good.”

“Why are you finding this amusing?” Percival still questions.

“No, it’s—it’s more like, um... you really care for them? And I’m happy, seeing the evidence of that.”

Percival’s annoyance melts at Newt’s shy, pleased smile, and he returns it before getting up from the sofa to head towards the kitchen. The coffee that has just finished brewing emits a rich, dark aroma and he has to admit that if he hadn’t found Newt, this smell would definitely be his favourite.

“You really are addicted to that,” Newt observes with a vaguely disgusted expression as Percival sits down next to him again with a hot cup. “How do you sleep?”

“Well,” Percival replies then takes the first sip.

The taste of the bitter liquid rushes straight to his head and he closes his eyes as he unconsciously releases a noise of pure satisfaction. He feels completely relaxed in the comfort of what he can confidently say is his home, sitting near his alpha who gives off a scent better than coffee and watching rather endearing creatures shuffle about around them.

Percival thinks this what it means to have a happy home. And speaking of...

“Newt—” but he pauses when he notices the man staring at him wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. “Are you alright?”

Newt blinks slowly as if dazed. “Sorry, I—” then he stops, turns pink. “What were you saying?”

The man doesn’t sound good, a little strained, and Percival wonders if Newt is forcing himself to stay up when he should be resting. Percival shifts over and then beckons Newt to lie down, which he does without protest.

“Too much coffee is bad for you,” Newt says suddenly.

Percival glances down at his alpha who attempts to look stern. “Don’t be ridiculous; there is no such thing as too much coffee. And as I was saying, would you like to visit my parents with me next weekend?”

That stops Newt effectively from whatever he had been trying to say.

“Your parents?” he gasps.

Percival shrugs, drinks again. “I’ve been delaying my visit to them for a while since many things have happened, but now that we are... somewhat established, I think it’s time to introduce you to them before we, um, move ahead.”

He doesn’t look down again, wary of what Newt’s answer could be, of what might be reflected on his face. But when Percival raises the cup to his mouth again, it’s pulled away from his hands and he stares dumbly as Newt sets it down somewhere on the floor before pushing himself up, then trapping Percival between his arms.

Newt’s face is full of awe and disbelief, blinking wide. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“What _do_ you think it means?” Percival shoots back, not quite able to meet that gaze.

A finger tips his chin up, and Percival is rendered nearly breathless at Newt’s radiant smile. As he leans in, Percival’s heart beats harder than during the first kiss they had shared. This one feels like a deeper connection when they finally meet, or maybe that’s his mind playing tricks on him. Whatever it is, he tastes the promise in it, the desire and commitment.

Percival chases Newt’s lips when they try to pull back, and shudders at the hands sliding up his neck as he is pressed back into the couch. He lifts his also, running them through Newt’s hair, tangling in it, holding him in place. There is no other sound for the next few minutes except for the slick movements of their lips and tongues, the sharp inhales and harsh exhales. It’s when Percival feels a heat building in his core that he finally drags himself away slightly. He pants for breath as he slowly opens his eyes, and bites back a whine at the dark look in Newt’s eyes. Newt brings a hand down to his hip, rubs there gently over the shirt. Then when Percival licks his lips, Newt’s gaze is drawn to them and it’s intoxicating to feel so desired.

“Soon,” he promises, closing a hand over the one Newt has on his hip, pressing their foreheads together, and Newt nods.

“I guess coffee isn’t so bad, after all,” the man says, grinning, breaking the spell.

Percival huffs a laugh, then glares as he draws back. “What did you do with my coffee?”

“Right here, love.”

They resume their original positions on the couch and enjoy the silence, Percival finishing his charm-heated coffee, and he thinks of going to bed soon.

“Percival,” Newt calls quietly. “I’m ready to talk.”

Percival pauses for moment, then sends the cup back to the kitchen before shifting to get comfortable again. He doesn’t say anything, only waits.

Eventually, Newt says, “Her name was Leta.”

Newt reveals the story of a girl who had first taken his heart, how he had loved her so even at that young age but in the end, she had broken him. She had met ‘a better alpha’ than Newt, and Newt hadn’t even known at the time what that meant. He says all this in a detached voice that Percival doesn’t like hearing from his usually bright alpha.

“It was a couple years after that that I realised I’m not what most people expect an alpha to be. What little friends I made eventually left because of the creatures, and later on, no woman or man would pursue anything with me because of my unconventional tendencies. I had acquaintances that I met through mutual interests but since I never stayed in one place too long, those, too, faded to nothing.

”Theseus tried his best. He would set me up with people, get angry when they didn’t bother with me anymore. I’m truly thankful for him and our parents because otherwise, I might have lived my life with a little less excitement than I do now.

“And then I met you. You were only someone who needed help at the time and I was the only available person. But then I came back, saw that you were hurting but also very strong. You had such strength and kindness and goodness within you despite all the things that had happened and I couldn’t help but fall for you. I was scared every time I approached you, knowing that I wouldn’t be good enough. I was never a good alpha.”

Percival takes one of Newt’s hands and winds their fingers together, hears Newt let out a shuddering breath.

“But you were fine with knowing that I was an alpha and I think that’s when I knew I loved you. But even though I was happy, I was also counting down the days until you would find a better alpha. The night that you met Queenie...”

Newt lets out a quiet, broken laugh and Percival squeezes his hand tighter, swallowing.

“I cried so much and I thought, well, real alphas don’t cry like babies and you would definitely be disgusted by it but then you came back and watched me cry again and didn’t say anything of the sort. You accepted another part of me and with that, my happiness grew but so did my fear. It was honestly too good to be true. I kept waiting for the one thing that would drive you away because I didn’t want to leave first.

“So, uh, when I started seeing you become friendlier with everyone else, it was nice, but then it seemed like the other alphas were getting too close and I would sort of... lose my mind. Act stupidly. I was immensely grateful you could stop me when I made you uncomfortable. Because—because even though I’ve been hurt since I wasn’t considered a _real alpha_ , I didn’t actually want to be like them. Their brashness, pride, disrespect towards betas and omegas. The _entitlement_. I hated myself, thought it ironic that it wouldn’t be a part of my personality that would chase you off, but acting like the entitled asshole I didn’t want to be.

“But you—” Newt stops, breath hitching, and he finally looks at Percival.

Percival leans in, kisses away the tears that fall from his alpha’s eyes. He turns them so he can tuck Newt’s head into his shoulder, kiss the side of it. All this time, Newt had had similar fears to Percival, but he had hidden it much better while even taking on Percival’s. No alpha is stronger than Newt, he thinks, because it takes strength to feel so deeply, to be hurt, to fear, to bare one’s soul to another. It takes strength to be there for someone, just as Newt has done for Percival.

“You’re still here,” Newt says quietly, throat tight with tears.

“I am,” Percival agrees, then coaxes Newt to lift his head so they can see each other. “And I will continue to be. You will become my mate and I will be proud to call you my alpha. No one else can have you, you hear? You’re _mine_ , Newt.”

And Newt nods, smiling shakily, gratefully, and Percival kisses his forehead, his wet cheek, the corner of his mouth, and finally fully on the mouth.

“You’re mine, alpha,” Percival says again. “Don’t you dare doubt that.”

“Okay,” Newt sighs, starting to slump in relief and exhaustion.

Percival gently pushes Newt back to lie down and takes his wand from the lamp stand next to the couch, mutters an extension charm. He expands the couch into a decent bed-size, then lies down next to Newt. His alpha stares at him, eyes still wet but no longer crying, bearing the look of someone who has had a weight lifted off them. Despite their self-imposed rule, Percival thinks they can make an exception tonight and he opens an arm in invitation. Newt blinks wide, hesitates a moment, then shift into Percival, immediately pressing his face into Percival’s neck.

“Thank you,” Newt whispers, and Percival holds him closer.

He waves a hand at the lamp, turning it off, and waits for Newt to fall asleep before closing his eyes. Then later on, when he wakes screaming from a nightmare because he had forgotten about Grindelwald, Newt is there to rock him back into a dreamless sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey. This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I never thought I'd get here but inspiration hit me like a freight train and I think it's safe to say that you guys kept it going. All of you are incredible, thank you.
> 
> I'll probably say more mushy and cheesy stuff at the end of the epilogue which will be... the ceremony!! Idk how I'm going to write it!! But yeah, we'll get there.
> 
> Warning for bigotry?

Percival feels uneasy in the morning, most likely a residual chill from an especially intense nightmare during the night. Newt fusses over him, asking about it, whether it happens often, and Percival waves his concerns away. Before leaving for work, he writes a letter to inform his family of his imminent visit and to be prepared to meet his intended alpha and his wonderful menagerie.

The meeting takes place at the end of the day to give ample time for everyone to arrive. The large, circular room is filled with various witches and wizards of high-calibre, mostly alphas and betas. When Seraphina announces the fate of Grindelwald, everyone cheers and applauds for the victory over him. There is a collective relief throughout the crowd and Percival thinks that it's finally done, that he is free at last. He doesn't see one of the officials raising his hand.

“And what of Mr. Graves?” he asks once he’s addressed.

Percival's eyes snap to him, startled, before looking at Seraphina whose eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

“What of him, Mr. Cuthbert?”

“Well, in light of recent… _discoveries_ , I feel it prudent to have him questioned for any further relation to the recently deceased criminal.”

The crowd starts murmuring, some shaking their heads while others looks thoughtfully towards him and it makes him grit his teeth, cross his arms reflexively in defense.

“I am uncertain as to how that is relevant to Grindelwald,” Seraphina says, frowning disapprovingly. “I see it as nothing but ignorant prejudice on your part.”

Mr. Cuthbert’s face goes dark. “How are we to trust him, Madam President, knowing that he has kept his very own gender hidden during all his years at MACUSA? He has proven himself as one who knows how to keep secrets, important ones at that. He could very well be a supporter lying in wait for an opportunity to take over.”

Percival stands, unable to listen to this insult against him. “You are currently the furthest thing from the gentleman you claim to be, Mr. Cuthbert,” he proclaims loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “I would understand if you had such a problem with me before and have sufficient evidence to support your outrageous accusation but it’s strange how you voicing your concern coincides with your finding that I am an omega. Not a single moment or action in my history of working here shows my support for that son of a bitch—” and he ignores the gasps, too angry to care for their pretenses, “—and you only need to see the records to realise what other people—especially the excellent aurors within our employment—already know.”

Everyone is silent, either shocked by his outburst or scandalised by his boldness against an alpha official.

“Unless, of course, you are also accusing them of the same treason because of their support for me. Then who in the Magical Security Department can be trusted?” he continues with the same cold anger that has driven him to pursue the criminals. “Now is the time to hit the enemy hard, with their beloved leader buried six feet under, never to see the light of day again. His plans of evil and hatred will never come to fruition and I will give my life to make sure of that, as I have always done.

“So, please, by all means, suspend me, lock me away for interrogation, but know that I will not reveal anything different from what I have said here in this room. And then you will be welcome to capture the rest of his followers on your own.”

Percival sits down again, subtly hiding his trembling hands as he crosses his arms again. He glares at the red-faced Mr. Cuthbert before shooting an apologetic look at Seraphina who doesn’t seem too upset by his interruption.

“Well said, Director,” someone whispers from his left.

He turns to see someone who he has never really spoken to personally—Mrs. Tenker, he thinks, one of the officials from the west coast. She possesses a kind face and even kinder eyes when he meets her gaze, and he nods in appreciation.

“Madam President!” Mr. Cuthbert exclaims angrily, “I demand that this disrespectful bit—”

“If you finish that sentence,” Seraphina interrupts smoothly, voice hard, “I will have you escorted out of this room and I will personally see to it that you no longer participate in future meetings until you learn to pay respect where it’s due. Know that you have lost mine today with your appalling and judgemental behaviour, Mr. Cuthbert.”

No one says anything more when she asks if anyone else has a problem with Percival that is legitimate and not an attack on his person, and it is only when they are dismissed and everyone files out without approaching him that he stays and unwinds, buries his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Seraphina takes a seat next to him.

“I need to apologise, Percival,” she sighs. “I suspected that some of the bigoted fools might bring it up to try and exert their so-called authority. They’re only bitter because you actually know how to do your job and are recognised for it.”

Percival huffs a strained laugh, raises his head to stare out into the empty room. “It’s fine, Sera. I suspected it, too.”

“But I daresay you may gain admirers after that speech of yours.”

“Don’t you mean haters? I must’ve destroyed their prides with my _disrespect.”_

Seraphina shoots him a look. “They were getting cocky; you did well.”

Percival shrugs and leans back, feeling a strange mix of hollow, bitterness, and weightlessness. He’s glad he was able to speak his mind, yet encountering prejudice against his omega nature at MACUSA of all places leaves a bad taste in his mouth. But he is certain that this problem can be overcome as well, since he also has more friends and allies than he had initially thought.

“So, now that everything is public knowledge, that makes you the first omega Director of Magical Security in the history of MACUSA,” Seraphina says, and Percival turns to see her smiling at him. “Congratulations, Director Graves. You’re setting a good example for our future generation.”

Percival’s throat tightens for a moment, then he swallows before thanking her.

“And how are things with Newt?”

“Things are... well, to put it simply,” Percival mutters, a little embarrassed. “We’ll be visiting my parents next weekend, so I will be taking Friday off.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Percival; those other alphas did not deserve you. And make sure to greet your parents for me.”

“They will probably ask why you haven’t come along.”

Seraphina raises a brow sceptically. “Really? I thought they wouldn’t want me to return after that last time.”

“Well, you haven’t visited for some years now and they miss you. As long as you moderate your drinking and don’t fall on me again because you cannot hold your balance while drunk, it will be fine,” Percival replies dryly.

Seraphina hums thoughtfully. “Newt can probably do that even without getting drunk, can’t he? I will leave that part up to him.”

“Merlin, why did you have to say that? Now, he probably will,” Percival groans, covering his face.

Seraphina laughs, delighting in his dread. But it’s a nice sound, and it’s good to know that she can still laugh freely.

Newt is outside the doors when they leave together, and Percival is amused when he sees the man torn between jealousy and fear of Seraphina.

“Madam President,” he greets, not quite looking at her.

“Mr. Scamander,” Seraphina returns with a nod. “Thank you for always taking care of Percival.”

Percival is personally affronted by that statement. “Excuse me—”

“It’s no trouble at all to care for the one I love,” Newt cuts him off smoothly while smiling at him.

“Newt!”

“I will continue to entrust him into your good hands. Of course, I'm sure you're well aware of what may happen to you if I should hear that you’re treating him any less than how he deserves to be treated.”

Newt looks taken aback. “Oh. Um, I can probably guess? Something—bad?”

“I don't believe this,” Percival mutters, shaking his head.

And then Seraphina smiles sharply at Newt and his alpha pales a little, which is the last straw.

He steps between them, scowling at his friend. “Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need you to scare him off before I’m even mated.”

“If this is all it takes, then he isn’t worthy,” Seraphina says, smirking. “But he seems fine.”

Percival softens a little. “ _We’ll_ be fine.”

“Indeed. Have a good evening, Percival, Newt.”

She nods at each of them and then walks off elegantly, powerful strides clearing her path of anyone standing in the way.

Percival turns to Newt who is watching her leave, admiration and awe on his face, and he smiles. “Ready to go home?”

“Ready when you are,” Newt replies absently, then seems to realise something as he looks back at Percival. “Oh, do you want to have dinner outside today? The weather isn’t too hot and we could catch some fresh air while we’re at it.”

Although Percival would like to go home and rest after the day he has had, he can’t say that the idea is unappealing. “That would be nice.”

“Great!” and Newt smiles brightly, slipping an arm around Percival’s waist as he guides them towards the exit.

There aren’t many people left in the building, most of them already gone for the weekend, so Percival allows it. He admits he is also in need of a kind touch after the meeting that ended on a sour note, and if he were weaker, he would lean on Newt as well. It’s interesting, however, that no one looks at them with surprise or judgement, if they even look at all. As if they are accustomed to the sight of them together as alpha and omega.

They apparate near their home and drop off Lady and Newt’s case before walking to a diner close by. Percival isn’t too hungry so he orders a soup but with extra bread on the side while Newt chooses their specialty meatloaf.

“How was the meeting?” Newt asks once they’ve ordered.

Percival can’t quite hide his grimace, causing Newt to sit up straighter and lean in, concerned. “I will tell you later when we have more privacy. I don't want to think about it at the moment.”

Newt nods reluctantly. “Alright.”

He hold out a hand, palm up on the table, and Percival hesitates briefly before placing his own in it. It's a warm, soft grip that Newt provides and his omega relaxes slightly at the contact.

“Oh, aren’t you adorable?”

He and Newt both startle at the unexpected voice and Percival quickly draws his hand back, embarrassed. They turn to see Queenie Goldstein standing by their booth with her hands folded together, smiling widely. Her pregnant belly is significantly larger than the last time Percival saw her, but he doesn’t feel as bitter this time although the ache is still there.

“Queenie! You shouldn't have disturbed them!” Tina huffs coming up to their booth to join her sister. She then glances at Percival before bowing her head. “I apologise for my sister, Director; we’ll be on our way.”

“Why don’t you join us?” Newt surprisingly offers, and everyone looks at him in shock.

“Really?” Queenie asks excitedly, while Percival does the same but doubtfully. Tina just looks doubtful.

“Well, I mean—um, since we uh—” Newt stutters nervously, eyes wide. “We didn’t get to have that dinner together—I mean—if you don’t mind?”

He directs the last part at Percival, and then all eyes turn to him. Percival sighs, surprises himself when he says, “Not at all,” with complete honesty.

Newt slides out of his seat to move over to Percival's side and Queenie and Tina sit themselves on the opposite bench. Tina fidgets uncomfortably while Queenie and Newt smile at one another and Percival just drinks from his glass of water. Their server comes by with menus and for a few minutes, the sisters are distracted with discussing and choosing what they want. But then all too soon, they’re back to silently regarding one another or doing something else.

Queenie speaks first. “It has been a while, hasn’t it, Newt? It's so nice to see you again.”

“Yes. Yes, it has,” Newt replies, looking uncomfortable with the realisation. “I’m sorry, I was—kind of busy. But also kind of—hm...”

“Oh, that’s alright, honey; I understand perfectly,” she says graciously.

“A-and how are you? With the, um, pregnancy and all?”

Newt pointedly doesn’t look at Percival when he asks, but Queenie does, subtly and knowingly, eyes a little sad. Percival raises a brow, and she just smiles.

“It’s going better than I had hoped. Teenie has been a great help so far, talking me out of a nervous spell at times,” and she giggles cutely.

Tina looks caught as if she didn’t know she’d be mentioned, then shrugs. “You need someone right now.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Newt says, smiling at both of them.

“And how is your husband doing?” Percival asks suddenly, genuinely curious.

They all stare at him again and Percival wants to roll his eyes.

“Oh, he’s doing wonderfully; busy but happy,” Queenie replies, smile turning appreciative. “Thank you for asking, sweetie.”

“Mr. Graves,” Tina speaks up, and when Percival turns to her, he notes that she hasn’t wilted under his gaze these past few months, a sign of growth on her part. “If I may ask, when do you plan on having your mating ceremony? I-if you are planning to, that is.” And she shifts her eyes toward her sister quickly then back.

Percival narrows his eyes in suspicion but Tina just stares at him earnestly. “Not any time soon,” he says slowly, “We will need to meet both of our parents first before we decide anything concrete in regards to the ceremony. Once that’s done, we’ll go from there.”

“Oh, of course, that makes sense. But then you’ll let us know?”

“You will be invited, Tina, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Percival guesses.

And he guesses wrong, judging from her shocked expression. “Oh,” she breathes. “Oh, that’s—that’s such an honour, Mr. Graves. Thank you.”

Mercy Lewis, is she about to cry? Percival turns to Newt for help only to see both him and Queenie giving him uncomfortably fond looks, and he scowls at all of them. Thankfully, their orders arrive and then everyone is too busy eating to continue that awkward line of conversation. Until...

“Percival, the meatloaf is especially good today. Try some?”

Unthinkingly, Percival turns and accepts the bite Newt offers on his fork out of habit, then freezes when he realises that they have an audience. Tina is frozen herself, a bite of her own food halfway to her mouth and Queenie seems like she’s about to burst in delight. A quick glance at Newt shows that the man is rapidly turning red in embarrassment, much like himself. He chews slowly to delay having to explain anything, mind in chaos while he absently agrees that the meatloaf _is_ indeed good today.

Newt bows his head, now an alarming crimson including the tip of his ears, and unconsciously licks the fork that had just been in Percival’s mouth. He hears Tina choking on something as he kick Newt under the table. Merlin’s _balls_.

“Oh my goodness, you two are absolutely the sweetest!” Queenie squeals and Tina quickly hisses, “Shut _up_ , Queenie!”

“Don’t mind us, honey; you do whatever you’re comfortable doing,” Queenie reassures, but it isn’t reassuring at all.

“I rather you pretend nothing happened,” Percival manages through his teeth after swallowing.

“I think that’s impossible,” Tina mumbles, then immediately focuses on her food when Percival shoots her a glare.

“I’m sorry, Percival,” Newt mutters miserably. “I really wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s alright, Newt, so please _stop talking about it_.”

“Right—right. Sorry.”

Queenie giggles and even Tina lets out a short laugh, and Percival is very much ready to go home.

But they don’t part ways immediately after dinner because the sisters promise to treat him to coffee and Percival reluctantly, _not_ immediately, gives in. The girls share a knowing look between them and he doesn’t know how to take that.

Coffee after dinner is a simple affair, the topics of conversation mild and civilian-friendly. And when they start to head home, Queenie leaves with a wistful, “Hope we meet again soon.”

 

 

“Do you think Queenie is lonely?” Newt asks as he tosses pellets at the mooncalves.

Percival, who is back from feeding Mary, frowns in thought. “I imagine so, on some level. She cannot be freely active within our community, nor among the No-Maj. She chose a hard path, but she knows it is worth the sacrifice.”

“You’re so nice, Percival,” Newt says fondly.

“Shut up, Newt.”

“You know saying that doesn’t work, love.”

“And neither will that; not when they’re all watching.”

Newt shakes his head. “You get embarrassed by the weirdest things.”

“ _You_ have absolutely no shame,” Percival returns accusingly, tossing back a stray pellet.

“Are we arguing? Is this an argument?”

“No, this is a civilised conversation between two adults. Supposedly.”

Newt laughs. “Even you aren’t sure!”

“The part I am uncertain about is ‘between two adults’,” Percival says casually.

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” Newt says, pouting.

“I’m not implying, really,” and Percival keeps his lips firm against a laugh when Newt pouts harder. “Fine; come here—but after you’re done with them,” he adds when Newt immediately moves towards him.

“But I’m not,” Newt replies confusedly.

“Yes, I know, so please finish feeding them properly. I’ll be waiting outside,” and with that he leaves first, amused by Newt’s protests behind him.

He stops by the occamy nest on his way out to bid good night to Lady, who is now much more comfortable with sleeping with her friends.

By the time Newt is done, Percival has showered and changed, and he stops Newt from touching him before pointing wordlessly at the stairs. Newt huffs before running upstairs, and Percival waits with a cup of coffee and a book. He startles when he hears a crash from above, but it’s followed by Newt shouting, “I’m okay!” and it makes him chuckle.

The first thing Newt does when he comes back down is shove a towel at Percival and he sighs while putting down his book, coffee already finished. Newt sits himself on the floor in front of Percival, back to the couch, and slouches once Percival starts gently patting his hair dry. The room fills with a quiet rumble of content from his alpha and Percival can’t help but lean down to kiss the top of his head.

“There you go,” Percival says, patting Newt’s shoulder and tossing the towel onto the other couch.

Newt turns over onto his knees and pushes himself up for a kiss, following it with another, and then another. Percival sighs happily, hands coming up to hold him by the neck and nails softly scratching at the skin, making the man laugh against his mouth.

“That tickles,” Newt mumbles, then pushes his face under Percival’s jaw and inhales deeply. “I could use a cup of tea, now that I think about it.”

“There’s a cup in the kitchen,” Percival tells him, and then lets out a pleased noise for the kiss of appreciation he receives.

“You’re the best,” Newt says happily before going to get his tea.

And when both are back on the couch, Newt asks again about the meeting.

Percival thinks about how to share this, because even though being discredited in front of all the officials during an important meeting had been upsetting, he knows it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He has already declared his intentions and it’s up to them to decide to trust him or leave. There is a much greater, deeper issue that he has been containing for a long time.

“Grindelwald is dead,” Percival replies indifferently. “They executed him today, so they said.”

Newt nods, expression grim, then presses closer. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Percival sighs. “He still haunts my dreams, and you already know of the days when I’m angry at everyone for no apparent reason. I’m glad he will never torture another like that ever again, but that’s only one part of it.”

The anger is still there, the fear not quite fully dissipated, and while Percival wants to confirm Grindelwald’s demise with his own eyes, he doesn’t think he can bear to set eyes on that face ever again.

“Some part of me wonders if he truly is dead,” he admits. “That maybe one day, he will find me, and I may have to capture him or be captured once more.”

Percival doesn’t realise he is trembling until Newt is wrapping his arm around Percival’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.

“And yet another part is disgusted by this—this _weakness_ —”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Percival,” Newt cuts in. “It isn’t weakness that you chose to survive and recover, that you continue to make this place safer by chasing down all his followers.”

“I didn’t do that on my own—” Percival protests.

“Because you’re not supposed to. No one is supposed to do that by themselves. I realise that now, too; some things are meant to be healed with someone else’s help.”

Newt softly utters the last few words into Percival’s hair, and Percival listens because maybe he’s right. Many things have changed since Percival’s rescue, and the most important is that he can trust and rely on more people than he had ever imagined. Some he call his subordinates, some his friends, and one in particular, his mate.

“Newt,” Percival calls. “Alpha.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” and it’s everything yet not enough, but it’s all he can say right now.

“ _I_ should be saying that,” Newt says, chuckling. “Really,” and then Percival hears a sniffle. “I’m thankful that you chose to live, even if you have to live with what he has done.”

Percival huffs fondly. “There’s no need to cry, Newt.”

“Shut up, Percival.”

“You know saying that doesn’t work,” Percival repeats Newt’s earlier words, and his heart lightens when his alpha laughs.

Percival pulls back and wipes a few stray tears from Newt’s eyes, brushes his hair back from his face, and wonders at his beautiful, crybaby alpha. “So, when should we go meet your parents?”

Newt blinks. “Oh, well—hm. It’s about time I write them a letter, so I can ask then.” Then he smiles widely. “Wow, this is really happening.”

Percival can’t believe how adorable this man is sometimes. “I would hope so.”

“My parents would adore you, I can tell you that,” Newt says excitedly. “If you can get Theseus on your side, then it’s pretty much guaranteed.”

“I see. Then I would say the same for my family. If my sister approves, then it will be much easier to convince my father.”

“Your sister?” Newt asks curiously. “You’ve never spoken of your sister before.”

“She’s my younger sister who is very dear to me, and a traveller much like yourself. We have doubts as to whether she will ever settle down and continue the Graves family line as the next alpha heir, but she deserves her freedom. I am uncertain of her location at the moment, so she may not even be there when we visit.”

Newt just looks bewildered by this new information. “Does she know that I’m your intended?”

“Who knows? I tried reaching out to her but I haven’t received any reply yet.”

“Okay,” Newt says doubfully.

Percival pats Newt’s cheek. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Like I said, the chances of her being there is minimal.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Percival,” Newt mumbles, then flushes when Percival just stares sceptically.

Percival drags him in for a kiss which Newt immediately melts into, and his alpha looks blissfully dazed afterwards. But then he looks worried again.

“What should I get them? It’s a customary thing to give gifts to your intended’s parents when meeting them to ask permission, isn’t it?”

“I already told them not to expect anything, just you and your creatures. Father will surely be impressed by your ability to keep a nundu.”

“She isn’t ‘kept’,” Newt replies with the exasperation of one who has to repeat the same thing constantly, then bites his lip. “But still, I should bring something. Out of courtesy. And hopefully to win their favour. Oh, Merlin—Percival, you need to help me!”

Percival sighs. “Alright, we can look for something together this upcoming week."

Newt brightens a little at that, and Percival tells him to finish his tea that was left forgotten on the floor.

“Then what would your parents like, Newt?”

Newt hums, then replies, “A handsome, kind, and capable son-in-law—oh, wait, we seem to have one of those.”

“ _Newt_.”

“Alright, fine. We can look together for something for them, too,” he laughs.

“Together,” Percival mumbles. “That sounds nice.”

“It _is_ nice.”

“It’s really happening,” Percival says, and is surprised by the sudden sting in his eyes.

“Percival?” Newt calls, looking worriedly at him.

“I—” and then the tears fall.

It’s strange because he isn’t sad or angry, and they’re not even tears of joy, really. It’s like his body is releasing the stress of everything that he has been through in the past week, from recovering his scent to encountering the many reactions to his true gender, to Grindelwald’s death and planning for the future with his soon-to-be mate. Like he is being cleansed of everything, ready to start anew. He doesn’t sob or weep loudly, but just lets the tears quietly fall, occasionally taking a shuddering breath. And Newt holds him, rocks him gently throughout it all.

“I feel a bit better,” Percival says after, experiencing a strange kind of hollowness in his chest.

“I hear that crying can be cathartic,” Newt says quietly, brushing Percival’s hair back. “You know what would make you feel even better? A haircut.”

“No,” Percival declines immediately, and chuckles at Newt’s pout.

“I really think it’s about time that you let me; I promise I’ll cut it nicely.”

“And I think you have an unhealthy obsession with wanting to cut my hair,” Percival returns dryly.

“It’s not an obsession—”

“Maybe I’ll let you for the mating ceremony; it can be your mating gift.”

“Really?” Newt asks brightly, then frowns. “Wait, no. I don’t want that as _the gift_.

“Well, aren’t you a selfish one.”

“Excuse me—that’s like if I were to give you a sandwich as _the gift_.”

“Not quite the same thing, but you did do that at some point,” Percival points out.

“Oh,” Newt deflates. “I did, didn’t I.”

And Percival can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his chest, and delights further when Newt laughs with him. He knows that they still have a long way to go, that sometimes they will want to hide from each other and their arguments will not always be this petty or simple. But Percival has hope in them, something he has not felt for a long time.

He has hope that whatever comes their way, they will figure it out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I WATCHED WONDER WOMAN and idk but what do you think of Gal Gadot as Percival's younger alpha sister? Like, she takes after mom and he takes after dad or something. Not too much alike except for nice brows and brown eyes but she's as tall as him so if she wears heels, she'll definitely tower over him and I can maintain that Percival is the shortest of them all except for maybe Abernathy and Mathews. Geez, Tina is actually taller than him, too.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the fluff? I think? This kind of got away from me...
> 
> More author's feelings and stuff down below. Thanks everyone.

 

**Four months later...**

 

 

“Mother, I’m much too old for this,” Percival complains under the guise of attempting to make a reasonable argument.

“Nonsense, Percival,” his mother rebukes gently. “It will suit you perfectly and besides, it has always been my dream to personally style my children’s hair for their ceremonies. At least one of you is finally allowing me to braid it.”

She says the last part with an exasperated huff, and Percival silently curses his sister for indirectly putting him through this.

“There, isn’t it beautiful? What do you think, Lady?”

Lady has no opinion because she doesn’t know what a braid is and she isn’t even looking, enjoying her sunbathing on the carpet beside them. Percival, on the other hand, when shown with a mirror, is quietly horrified by the complicated twist his hair is tied in, the end of the tail falling just between his shoulders.

“Dougal, would you mind—yes, that’s right. Thank you, dear.”

Then Percival sees what Dougal has just handed over.

“ _Mother_ , no, this is where I draw the line—”

“This is just the finishing touch, dear. I’m sure Newt will like them.”

Percival stands before she puts the first flower in his hair and turns around, eyes narrowed. “I really must insist that those come nowhere near me. And Newt won’t even notice them!”

“If he won't notice them, then what on earth is the problem? All omegas put seasonal flowers in their hair for their ceremony,” his mother tries to reason.

“That was _twenty years ago_. I never liked flowers, anyway.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t be having this argument if this were happening earlier,” his mother says, frustration starting to show on her face.

Then she freezes at the same time Percival does, and remorse crosses over her features as she closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, Percival, that was uncalled for.” She opens her eyes again, and they fill with moisture but don’t drip over. “I’m truly, honestly happy for you, darling. I shouldn’t be upsetting you on your big day like this.”

“It’s fine, mother,” Percival manages quietly. “Thank you.”

“We can do without the flowers; you’re pretty enough as you are,” she sniffs, dabbing a handkerchief at the corners of her eyes.

Mercy Lewis, he had never thought he would live to hear his own mother call him ‘pretty’ of all things. He looks to see Dougal now lounging on the carpet with Lady and relaxes a little before smiling at his mother. “I suppose I could be worse.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s do a final check before I let you go out there.”

Percival allows his mother to fuss over his suit and bowtie for a few minutes longer before deciding that's quite enough and ushers her out of the dressing room. He holds out his arm for her to take and escorts her down the stairs (thank goodness they're only on the second floor). She talks idly while they make their way to the back doors where everyone should be waiting, and Percival doesn't pay much attention because he's starting to get nervous and is trying to convince himself that that's ridiculous.

“Percival, darling, you should breathe,” he hears his mother say gently as she rubs a hand up and down his back. “There you go, in and out.”

They’re only a few feet from the door where the doormen can clearly see him losing his courage and he flushes in shame.

“It’s only a ceremony, mother, a formality, and the actual legal binding isn’t until later—” and Percival knows he's babbling which _never_ happens but he can't—

His mother hushes him and he stops, stares at her wide-eyed, and the hand that was on his back cups his cheek, a thumb softly stroking along his cheekbone.

“Percival, you’re thinking too much,” she says, smiling softly. “It’s not _only_ a ceremony; it's a public declaration in front of many witnesses—those who are close to your heart—that you love each other and promise absolute commitment to one another. They will hold you accountable to that because it's important to both of you, so how could you not be nervous when you’re stepping out there to proclaim a life-altering decision that not only involves you but a whole other person as well?”

Percival continues to stare. “I’m not certain that helps.”

“Your father was a nervous wreck, too, at our ceremony. He nearly fainted but don't tell him that I told you.”

He starts to relax, arches a brow in doubt. “Even though you two were arranged.”

“Well, he did say it was because I was the most beautiful woman he had ever set his eyes upon—”

“He did _not_ ,” Percival says, now highly doubtful.

“Not exactly in the same way or in as many words, but that was the gist of it,” his mother continues smoothly. “Now come on, dear, we've wasted some time talking. He’s waiting for you.”

Of course, he is, Percival thinks. And the thought of Newt settles his nerves enough that he can finally smile.

“There you go,” and she lets go, takes his arm again. “Oh, do you think Newt might faint? He seems the type to do that.”

Merlin, this woman. “Mother, please.”

“No one will judge him, I’m sure,” she laughs as they step outside at last into the bright, autumn sun and the large yard that is completely decorated and full of people.

Everyone is seated at designated tables and they all turn as one as he walks down the aisle of satin-covered stone and Percival purposefully doesn’t look at anyone for his own sanity.

Except at Newt who is smiling so brightly at the end of the aisle and doesn’t seem nervous at all. He is quite handsome dressed sharply in a black tuxedo, despite the poor attempt at taming his wild hair. That smile grows impossibly wider when his mother relinquishes Percival to him and he thanks her with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. The man is the furthest thing from fainting; in fact, Newt is the most shameless he has ever been, not once taking his eyes off of Percival and smiling nonstop. Father Peter, who is an old family friend and their officiant, gives up trying to get his alpha’s attention and everyone laughs at that.

They’re at a point where such behavior no longer embarrasses him but he still gets exasperated. Today, he can’t be bothered at all.

They repeat the standard vows of submission and cherishment with some variation to represent themselves better which surprises some of the audience. And when the time comes for the gift exchange, Percival pulls out a pair of scissors from inside his coat and Newt picks up the paper bag by his feet. Most of the guests along with Father Peter are confused by their silent, almost straight-faced (because Newt has a serious problem controlling his facial muscles today) trade and he hears someone snorting followed by a couple snickers then a hushing sound.

“Ye-yes, thank you for the, um, lovely exchange,” Father Peter hurries as the guests start to murmur. “At last, ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, it is my pleasure to now present to you Mr. and Mr. Graves-Scamander! And for those of you who find that a mouthful, the couple has given permission to call them ‘Mr. Graves’ for short. You may now kiss each other or whatever else you’d like because I am officially done and would like a drink.”

With that, their officiant steps off the stage much to the shock of everyone and he heads over to his designated table. Percival and Newt just look at each other before Newt start smiling again and pulls him into a firm kiss. Cheers erupt from the audience and when they part, Percival sees his aurors running towards them in the most undignified manner but he can’t help but smile as they shout his name. Somehow, Theseus is the one to make it first and he gives them a tight hug at the same time, kissing both their cheeks. The stage then becomes so crowded that they can hardly move or hear one another. Someone yelps because they are poked by Newt’s new pair of scissors and Percival’s paper bag gets lost somewhere, but then a new coffee machine levitates towards them as all the aurors try to explain at once how they contributed to this gift that will be installed in his office while he’s on his honeymoon. It’s utter chaos and Percival doesn’t care.

By the time he and Newt are released, the other guests are already being served their meals. Seraphina and Theseus guide them to where they can sign the document that legally binds them together and Percival signs confidently, feeling elated to see his and Newt’s names on a piece of parchment. Afterwards, they head towards Newt’s parents who have been watching amusedly and they exchange hugs and kisses.

“Definitely the most handsome son I have,” Mrs. Scamander, his new mother-in-law, sighs as she holds his face.

“I object to that, mother,” Theseus says, scowling.

“Mother, you can let him go now,” Newt pleads.

“Maureen, let the poor lads eat; they must be hungry,” adds his father-in-law.

Percival remembers the pleasure of discovering that his alpha’s shamelessness is an inherited thing from when he had first met Newt’s parents. It had nearly overwhelmed him and Theseus had laughed at him _again_. But he had also found out that shamelessness wasn’t the only quality Newt had received from his parents when they gladly gave their son to him even knowing they wouldn’t see grandchildren carrying their bloodline through his and Newt’s union.

Percival also recalls Theseus’s guilt-ridden face after he hears of Percival’s condition because of the times he had teased him. But his friend had given him a firm hug, apologising gruffly for his ignorance and reassuring him that he was still Newt’s better half. He had spoken like one soldier to another, and that had lifted the burden off of his heart more than any tearful apology would have.

Percival’s parents receive them a little more calmly, with his mother hugging both of them gently while his father simply grunts and gives Newt a pat on the shoulder. Percival has his life nearly squeezed out of him by his sister and judging from Newt’s gasp of pain, she gives him the same treatment. He smiles at how his alpha is accepted completely by his family, and it’s honestly all that he needs.

Their meal is constantly interrupted by guests who come up to congratulate them and give well-wishes, and it starts to get on his nerves because he’s still hungry and his dish is getting cold. Newt is busy not meeting their eyes and stammering ‘thank you’s and Percival feels a little guilty about all the strangers he has to meet. He holds Newt’s hand to support him and Newt squeezes back.

The celebration lasts longer than Percival had expected, and now it’s just his aurors and close family and friends. Most of his aurors are intoxicated on some level and Theseus has already passed out after mistakenly challenging his sister to a drinking contest. He also thinks he sees his missing sandwich being passed around between the hungrier drunks. Their parents talk quietly amongst themselves, seeming to enjoy each other’s company. And Newt looks as tired as he feels.

“This isn’t quite how I expected your ceremony to go, I must admit,” his mother sighs as she watches the most sober of his aurors try to help clean up the aftermath following Newt’s lead. “Is this how they do it, nowadays?”

“This is my first one,” Percival reminds her, secretly pleased that even his mother’s meticulous planning is no match for the unpredictability of his subordinates. “I would think you’d have been invited to many of them before this.”

“Not in the last few years, I believe.”

“I wish you better luck with Irene’s, then.”

“Has she met someone?” his mother asks, turning wide, hopeful eyes on him.

“I might have seen her staying close to someone during the day, but I’m not sure they’re here anymore.”

“That’s something, at least,” his father joins them out of nowhere. “Did you enjoy today, son?”

“Yes, sir, I did. Thank you for allowing us to use your backyard,” Percival replies, a bit taken aback.

His father frowns. “This is still your house, too.”

“Would it kill you to be less of a statue just this once, dear?” his mother asks, steel underlining her voice despite her smile.

“It’s alright, mother—oh, I think Newt’s done,” Percival glances awkwardly towards his mate (his _mate_ ) who thankfully _is_ done. “Thank you very much for today; I had a wonderful time.”

“It was no problem at all, Percival. I wish we could have done more, to be honest,” his mother sighs wistfully, but she cups his face and kisses his cheek. “Don’t forget to write when you get back. I hear you have quite the adventure waiting ahead of you.”

Percival swallows at the tears shining in her eyes as she tells him, “I’m so proud of you, my son. You’ll make each other very happy; I know it.”

When Percival turns to his father, he’s shocked when he’s pulled into an embrace and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands for a moment before tentatively hugging back.

“You’ll always be a true Graves; don’t forget that,” he says in an unbelievably gentle tone, and Percival can only nod.

“That’s better,” his mother remarks, and they separate quickly.

“Thank you, father, mother. I will keep you updated on my whereabouts when I can. I wish you both a good night.”

Then he nods at them as Newt comes to join, and waits as Newt shares goodbyes with his parents. And he drags him away when his mother starts asking if they’ll truly be safe on their honeymoon.

 

 

“Do we really need to be up that early tomorrow?” Percival groans after hearing their schedule for the next morning.

“You said you’d leave everything to me; don’t complain even before we start,” Newt rebukes him.

“Yes, you’re right. Fine. Then there will be no other activities tonight; we’ll just go straight to sleep.”

Percival is completely serious because he is exhausted after having fed the creatures as soon as they had returned home. And for some reason, Lady doesn’t want to sleep with her friends tonight, clinging to him. He gives her a nice scrub while he showers and he hears Newt’s voice in his head telling him he spoils the occamy too much.

He nearly falls asleep on the bed while he waits for his mate to finish washing as well, but immediately gets up when he remembers something. Thankfully, he has it ready by the time Newt exits the bathroom.

They spend a few minutes drying each other’s hair which quickly turns into a kissing session because now they can in this room and there’s an excitement in the air between them that they can pursue freely at last. They somehow end up lying on the bed, towels forgotten, sharing kiss after kiss.

“Newt—wait—” Percival pants after pulling away, and shivers at the look in his alpha’s eyes.

“Right, bed time,” Newt says, equally breathless, and pushes himself off of Percival.

Percival sits up and tries to slow his breathing while Newt watches curiously. “I have a gift for you.”

Newt blinks then sits up, too, eyes lit. “Really? Actually, so do I.”

“Ah, then shall we hold our own exchange ceremony?” Percival suggests. “I’ll start first, then.”

Percival holds out a hand and Newt automatically grips it. He takes a deep breath and reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the object.

“Oh,” Newt breathes.

“I know we said our vows earlier, but I have more to tell you,” Percival starts, gazing at Newt. “I can’t promise you the submission that society expects, nor to always be gentle and kind. I’m damaged and flawed and old, and hold a lot of anger within me. Yet, I found love. What I can promise you is that you are my one and only. I will always love you, always be faithful, and I ask you to wear this ring to constantly remind you of that, so that you will never doubt. Until death do us part, Newton Graves-Scamander.”

He slides the ring on, and it gives his omega a deep satisfaction to see the claim he has laid on his alpha using this physical symbol. Newt stares down at it, lips pressed together tightly to hold back his tears. He doesn’t immediately start crying like Percival expects, but meets his eyes once more.

“My gift,” he tries and then clears his throat. “My gift to you is a family.”

Percival furrows his brows in confusion.

“We cannot bear children of our own,” and Newt tightens his grip on Percival’s hand when he stiffens. “And I’m fine with that. But I also know you _do_ want them, and I’m fine with that, too.

“Newt...” Percival manages hoarsely, heart pounding.

“And we both know that there are many of them out there in need of a good home and loving parents.”

Percival shakes his head in disbelief, hand starting to tremble. “You can’t mean that. You’re an alpha. You want _your own_.”

Newt smiles sadly at him and Percival’s heart skips a beat. “I wish you would have a little more trust in me when I say that I’m honestly fine, but I’ll just have to convince you, then. For me, it’s not about siring them; it’s about having them with _you_.

“But—but,” and Percival is at a loss for a moment, looks away then back. Licks his dry lips. “They wouldn’t be fully yours.”

Frustration briefly passes over his alpha’s face before he sighs, closing his eyes. He reopens them and there is determination, absolute conviction in them. “They would be mine as much as they would be yours, if not more so. They would be ours, blood or not. I’m not saying this lightly, love.”

“It will be hard,” Percival immediately tries to protest, weakly tugging at his trapped hand. “I’m old and I work a dangerous job, I’m not the caretaker type... and there are the creatures to think about, and what if I want more—”

And he cuts himself off with a gasp, because he knows he revealed too much, revealed that he has thought about it, the _possibilities_.

“Then we start with one,” Newt says confidently. “One first, then we’ll go from there. No need to think about more than that right now.”

“When?” Percival demands, grabbing onto Newt’s elbow with his free hand. “ _How_?”

“I don’t know,” Newt replies, shrugging. “We’ll ask someone. Our friends, Madam Picquery, anyone. As for ‘when’, that will be up to you. Whenever you want.”

“I—”

Percival thinks both his heart and head might explode. Whatever he had thought Newt might give him, it hadn’t been this. The opportunity to open the door that he had once shut, thinking he’d never look back on it again. Always shutting down those ideas in his own mind because it’s one thing not to bear children, another to bring in outside blood. But Newt offers him this with such honesty and sincerity.

“I don’t know,” he says numbly, “I don’t know right now.”

“We don’t have to think about it or decide this moment. It’s more of a lifetime gift,” Newt reassures with a smile.

They crawl under the covers after that because Percival has nothing more to say and it’s getting late. He stares at their joined hands, rings shining in the low light.

“How is this my life?” he mumbles to himself.

“Did you say something?” Newt murmurs sleepily before yawning.

Percival smiles reluctantly. “I said you’re kind of amazing.”

“Love you, too,” Newt barely manages before finally closing his eyes and falling asleep.

Percival should sleep, too, since they are starting rather early tomorrow and Newt will probably have to drag him out of bed in order to be on time for their train ride. But his heart is full, chest tight, and he can’t take his eyes off of the man next to him, who just gives and gives and gives. Percival wants to do the same, and it will probably take the rest of his life to return even half of what he has received.

Probably until death do them part.

That doesn’t sound bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt's ring: http://demandware.edgesuite.net/aanc_prd/on/demandware.static/-/Sites-MHJ_Master/default/dw100ba3dd/hi-res/10013342_1.jpg
> 
> If someone ever told me before that I can write a 70k fic in under a month, I'd have laughed so hard. I guess if I have the right inspiration and motivation, I can do NaNoWriMo or something.
> 
> This honestly was a pure self-indulgence fic. I just wanted some hurt Percival and lots of comforting and giving him all the hugs but somehow it spiraled out of control but it's finally DONE. Wow. Thanks to all you lovelies who jumped on this self-indulgence wagon and stuck with me even though I was basically doing whatever I wanted.
> 
> I have a couple ideas for oneshots and timestamps hence the series, but those will come later. I plan to write them all before posting them, and since I have an exam in July to prepare for, they definitely won't be showing up anytime soon.
> 
> Major shoutouts to all of you who commented, you know who you are. It was amazing to see all your responses to each chapter. Thank you sincerely to every single one of you.
> 
> I'll miss you! Thanks and see you next time!


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